


bound

by ndnickerson



Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blood Drinking, Blood Sharing, Dancing, F/M, First Meetings, First Time, Kidnapping, Loss of Virginity, Missionary Position, Multiple Orgasms, Precognition, Soulmates, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2018-11-01 03:37:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10913529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: Nancy is accompanying her father during a business trip in Europe when one of her visions warns her of impending danger—and she meets the mysterious man she has seen in her precognitions for seven years.





	1. Chapter 1

”Honey? Are you all right?"

Nancy Drew opened sapphire-blue eyes, carefully schooling her face to keep her wince of pain hidden. Just the mild sunlight, diffused by low clouds, sent a stab of hot agony straight through her optic nerves. In a few minutes the nausea and disorientation would pass. "Fine," she replied, giving her father a smile as she reached for her teacup. It took effort, but she was proud that her hand didn't shake as she lifted the delicate porcelain to her lips.

"We'll head back to the hotel after lunch." Her father nodded firmly. "You can get some rest before dinner."

Her initial impulse was to protest and refuse. Instead, she murmured, "All right."

If Bess and George had been with her on this trip, she probably would have filled them in on her vision. Most of the time she did; sometimes she didn't. She couldn't help being glad that she hadn't really shared one particular set of visions with her two best friends in the world.

The first vision had come to her when she had still been a child. She hadn't understood it, but a need for comfort and reassurance had sent her scrambling for her father. She had poured it all out, her words tumbling over each other in their haste, her voice broken by quavering sobs. Her father had shushed her and smoothed her hair, and told her that she had just had a dream, just a bad dream, that her mother would be fine.

The visions were a lot like dreams. She had been so young that she had reluctantly accepted his explanation. He was her father. He was smart and brave and strong. If he told her nothing was wrong, then he had to be right.

Her mother had died the next day. It had been just the way she had seen it in her mind, from what she had learned about it. That event had torn her whole world apart.

In his grief, her father convinced himself that Nancy's vision had just been a nightmare she'd had after the fact. In her grief, Nancy had done all she could to wall off that part of herself, to ignore it and hope it died too. Her vision had foretold the worst day of her life; she couldn't pretend she ever wanted to see another.

But they were sharper, rich with sensation and meaning, like she was actually living through the event before it ever happened. Dreams felt like pale, blurred movies spiraling in her head. Her visions were a riot of glorious technicolor realism, her every sense seemingly heightened.

She had been successful at ignoring or walling away her visions in late childhood. Then even that veneer of normalcy had broken. When puberty hit, the visions came more often, and they wouldn't be denied.

Though she wasn't counting, a full third of her visions were about _him_.

She didn't know his name; in her visions, no one ever spoke it. He was tall and devastatingly gorgeous. His dark hair was neatly trimmed, and his dark-eyed gaze burned with incredible intensity. His shoulders were broad, his arms—his entire body—solidly built and muscular, radiating both unfathomable, sensual hunger and coiled, confident strength. Nothing about him was pretense or bluff. He had no need for it. His broad shoulders and chest tapered to a trim waist and powerful thighs.

She hadn't met him. She knew that. For all she knew, she never would; she'd had some visions that hadn't yet come true, though most of them had. Just never the ones involving him. She had only told Bess and George about one of those visions, and though her two best friends had teased her mercilessly about it for a few days after, it had thankfully dropped off the radar as a conversational topic.

The guy she saw in her visions was doubtless some crazy amalgamation of every ideal man she had ever seen, sprung wholesale from her overactive imagination or her awakening libido. She had had visions of him from soon after her fourteenth birthday, and they had never stopped. His smile, the way it lit up his entire face and gleamed in his dark eyes, made her knees weak. Feeling his strong arms around her in a protective embrace, the rock-hard strength of him pressed against her, at once resolved her, stiffening her spine, and made her melt. She had seen him on rumpled pure-white sheets, his normally perfect hair in disarray, and the touch of his hand on her bare shoulder, her neck, her jaw, her cheek, sent a shudder all the way down her spine. She had had that vision many times. She had felt the trembling joy of being in his arms for a dance during a few of her visions; soon after she had turned eighteen, she had had a vision of him pinning her against a wall, and she knew nothing else about where it happened, anything else that was going on around them. She just knew that his kiss, the demanding press of his body against hers, left her breathless and completely powerless to him. Then he had picked her up, and the vision had faded, leaving her both disappointed and curious.

She generally found them comforting, despite the side effects that always came after her visions: the sensitivity to light, the dizzying swirl of nausea. Her visions had sometimes given her the last hint or clue she needed to solve a case; they sometimes warned her when serious danger was coming. But the visions of the tall, dark stranger left her suffused in both warmth and longing, peace and loneliness. Maybe one day she would find a man in reality who would evoke the same response in her, but she was beginning to doubt it.

In her visions, she _belonged_ to the stranger. She had never belonged to anyone else on earth the way she felt she belonged both to and with him. And, she sighed internally, that made him incredibly safe. If her heart had been stolen by a dream guy, there was no chance some real man could ever break it.

"Sorry we haven't had much chance to go sightseeing. But at least there's the dance tonight."

Her head was finally starting to clear. She didn't have to force her smile. "I'm looking forward to it," she told her father. "And don't worry about the sightseeing. I've already seen all the tourist hotspots half a dozen times."

Her father smiled back at her. "I couldn't ask for a better travel companion," he said. "Grant said something interesting during the panel this morning..."

It wasn't that her father's conference wasn't interesting. But Nancy put a polite smile on her face and did her best not to spend the rest of their meal analyzing what she had seen in her vision.

That night, in her room in their suite, Nancy scrutinized her reflection in the bathroom mirror, checking her makeup one last time. She wore a pale blue lace dress; the fit was a little tighter than she remembered, but she wore spike heels, so her long, smooth, toned legs were shown to advantage. A diamond stud sparkled in each earlobe. Her blonde hair, touched with a hint of red, was shining and gathered in a sophisticated twist. She looked truly grown up, or at least she sincerely hoped she did. Some of the men who were attending the conference and might be at the dance tonight remembered her from when she was young; they were likely to try to ruffle her hair in misplaced condescending affection.

At every dance, she couldn't help it. She found herself looking for that particular chiseled face, square jaw, and flashing dark eyes. Something else was keeping her preoccupied tonight, though. The vision she'd had while at lunch with her father had left her humming with anxiety just under her skin, even after her too-brief nap. It had been a split, though. She had a chance to avoid what she had seen: plush red-velvet upholstery under her cheek, shining black dress shoes on male feet, harsh laughter, ropes burning-tight around her slender wrists. The limo speeding away from the hotel—toward Fiumicino Airport. Wet tarmac.

Nancy glanced toward the window. The streets were dry; the sky had been clear, but clouds raced toward the moon now. No details of her visions ever proved false or changed, unless she saw a split, and once the rain arrived, the stage would be set. She shivered once.

She wasn't working on a case, during her father's business trip to Rome. For once, anyway. It was always possible that kidnappers might abduct her for ransom or for leverage over her father. A few times, it had even happened to keep her away from some other crime. But this felt different.

At least if she had to fight, she wouldn't be tangled in long skirts, and her spike heels could do some serious damage. But her vision told her that it was still possible she could be abducted.

Unless she made the right choice, whatever that was. From that possible future, she sensed nothing. The split hadn't shown her.

The hotel ballroom was decorated with potted artificial trees strung with white Christmas lights. Mirrors reflected warm golden light to all corners of the room. Her heels sank into plush white-and-gold patterned rugs as her father guided her toward one of his acquaintances. Nancy put what she privately thought of as her political smile on her face, shaking hands warmly, listening with half an ear. She hadn't caught a glimpse of her kidnappers' faces, and practically every man in the room wore similar, if not identical, shining black dress shoes. No help there.

Her father introduced her to fellow attorneys, prosecutors, and politicians with a warm, proud smile on his face. He often told her how he treasured her analytical mind and deductive powers. Other than that first vision she had shared with him, she had never told him where most of her hunches came from. He would never believe her, and she couldn't bear the thought of his disbelief—or, worse than that, his fear.

She had only been seated at the table her father had claimed for a minute when she saw a familiar face in the crowd. He smiled and began to walk toward her, and a smile rose to her own lips.

\--

He couldn't say what had made him follow. Mostly because the reason was entirely foolish.

The man looked like Robert Hardy.

Robert Hardy had been dead for over fifty years. Ned was sure of it. He had removed his enemy's head from his shoulders himself, at great cost. It had become clear that one of them wouldn't walk away from the fight, but for the space of a few heartbeats, Ned had thought that neither of them would. He had left soon after for Europe, alternating between his houses in Italy and France. He had relaxed, knowing that Hardy was gone.

To see him again, like this... Ned knew it couldn't be him, but stranger things had happened. He had to confirm for himself that the dark-haired man wasn't Robert.

Ned had trusted his instincts for a long time, and as soon as he followed the man into a crowded hotel ballroom, those instincts were telling him something was wrong. Ned adjusted his cuffs, casting a slow, confident gaze around the warm golden room. Many of the male guests were dressed in classic tuxedos, highball glasses or champagne flutes in their hands. Most of them were older, distinguished, affluent. Some escorted slender, willowy blondes or vivacious, curvy brunettes; others chatted with silver-haired colleagues or wives. He saw no sign of alarm or unease in their faces.

Ned could move through a crowd with supreme confidence, sure that he was stronger, faster, more agile than anything around him. Nothing could touch him. The people around him moved in the same way. Seeing but not seeing, listening without hearing. All he would have to do to blend in was to drape a dish towel over one bent arm, or peer into a glossy smartphone screen with a genteel frown knitting his brows. Those who did notice him traced admiring or frankly speculative glances over his high cheekbones, olive skin, and long-lashed dark eyes. Was he a threat, a potential conquest, or both?

But he didn't wish to be seen tonight, especially by Hardy. Ned blinked and was again invisible. Without missing a beat, those who had been studying him turned back to their conversations and forgot they had ever seen him.

Humans. Fragile bodies, stubborn minds. By the time they even approached the beginning of true wisdom, those fragile bodies gave out, and they saw only what they wanted or needed to see. Ned was over three hundred years old, and he would likely never appear more than thirty, but even that would take a while. For now, he appeared around twenty-five years of age—if anyone could have seen him.

Ned took a long slow breath, glancing around again. A pianist played softly in the corner, but he blocked that out, along with the hum of conversation and the brittle edge of laughter. The scent he had picked up was vaguely like Hardy's, and that set his teeth on edge. He plucked a champagne flute from a passing waiter's tray and took another pair of slow steps, trying to find his quarry without spooking the other man.

Quarry. He did enjoy hunting, maybe too much. Maybe that was what had led him here tonight. He ached for a fight. With Hardy at least he had been well-matched; he hadn't had to pull his punches to keep from killing the other man. He'd had to pour all his strength into that fight.

Then he caught sight of short dark hair, broad shoulders in a tight jacket. The man who looked so much like Hardy was offering his hand to someone seated at one of the tables, and she rose, a glowing smile on her face.

He studied her at his leisure, knowing that she would neither sense it nor see him. High heels that would leave her teetering and off-balance, but God, they showed off miles of smooth, shapely leg. Her dress was molded to her curves, so much that he could see the slight indentation marking her belly button. Her hips were perfect; her breasts were perfect, too. The pale blue lace touched her collarbone and wrists, even if the hem stopped a few generous inches above her knees. A dark-pink cupid's bow of a mouth, a pretty blush in her cheeks, and sapphire blue eyes.

Sapphire blue eyes staring directly into his.

Ned blinked once and raised an eyebrow.

Her gaze stayed locked to him. She didn't give her head a little shake and let her eyes wander to someone else. It wasn't a momentary coincidence.

And Ned _recognized_ her. They had never met—oh, maybe he had seen that particular shade of blue before in someone else's eyes, those perfect lips on someone else's face, just not hers—but somehow he knew her. A flush rose in his cheeks, impossibly. They stared into each other's eyes and he couldn't breathe.

Then his quarry swept the girl out onto the dance floor, and that shared, intent gaze was interrupted.

Ned felt it like a solid punch to the chest, the loss of her attention. He became aware that heat had risen to his cheeks, was fizzing in his blood. She was probably fey; that would explain why she had been able to see him when all around her couldn't. And he would feel clumsy and gauche when he tried to speak to her, because she would know him, would know far more about him than he would about her. The fey could read thoughts, and sometimes influence them, even among his kind. Influencing humans was like child's play.

She looked so young, though. So very young. And even though that prickle of warning was still humming under his skin, he couldn't stay away from Hardy, or from the girl.

A few carefully casual strides brought him to the edge of the parquet dancing floor. The girl in the ice-blue lace dress was in the arms of Ned's quarry, but her gaze still found Ned when it could.

Either he was slipping, or she was fey. Either way, he was in trouble.

But he had met fey before. He saw no smirking gloat in her eyes, no wicked promise. She looked innocent and sweet. If the man currently twirling her on the dance floor was anything like the man Ned had killed half a century ago, she would be easy prey for him. He'd had no honor or shame. And it would take a man with neither to betray someone so pure.

She was a virgin.

When she swung close to him, Ned's free hand clenched into a fist. It was her scent, sweet and unmuddled, no tang of musk. She had never been with a lover, had never given her heart to someone. And she could see him.

The dance was no coincidence. Whatever Hardy was planning, it involved her. She would fetch him a handsome price, or maybe he just wanted her for himself.

Ned put his untouched flute onto another waiter's tray and stepped out onto the floor, smoothly avoiding other twirling couples, his gaze centered on the sheep and wolf before him. He couldn't have walked away from her if he tried. Now that he had set eyes on her, he could think of almost nothing else. If Hardy threatened her, Ned wouldn't hesitate for a second.

"May I cut in?"

The resemblance was unmistakable when Ned was this close, but this wasn't the same man. He was probably a distant relative. But that didn't help. Ned's fist still itched to punch in the other guy's face. He was too close to the girl. And Ned could see the fine marks that betrayed what he was. His skin was paler than that of the humans around them. His lips were pale, too. It had been too long since he had fed.

And he appeared all the paler beside the gorgeous tanned beauty beside him. As soon as those long-lashed sapphire-blue eyes met Ned's again, in so close a proximity, he actually felt his chest tighten a little.

She hadn't breached his shields, and Ned took pride in knowing that she wouldn't. He had been looking forward to a fistfight, but the idea of verbally or mentally sparring with her had its own appeal. Ned held out his hand and she gave him a slight nod before she accepted it. Her skin was warm, just as warm as his own, and he saw curiosity and wariness in her expression. Her curiosity won.

She might be able to see him, but she hadn't yet sensed what he was. Suddenly, furiously, he hoped she never would. Being in contact with her, even the clasp of her hand in his, was leaving him a little lightheaded. And he couldn't look away from her. He couldn't even make himself pretend to be disinterested. He probably seemed desperate.

The last quiet vestige of his self-preservation shouted at him to walk away. He ignored it.

Her Italian was lilting and only slightly hesitant. " _Salve_ ," she told him.

" _Pronto_ ," he replied. She usually spoke English. Probably American.

"You're even more gorgeous in person," she breathed.

Ned's eyebrows rose. He gazed directly into her eyes, waiting for her to feel embarrassed or self-conscious and look away. She didn't. She just waited, her lips slightly parted. His gaze sank to those perfect cupid's-bow lips.

"What's your name?"

He swallowed. He actually swallowed. He could see the slight tick of her pulse against her neck, and for a few seconds he was spellbound. He was no gauche teenager, but with her, he felt like one again. "Ned," he told her, searching her eyes. She moved in his arms like they had known each other all their lives, like this was the thousandth dance they had shared.

"Nancy," she said, and smiled. "Are you like me?"

She wasn't like him, so the answer to her question had to be negative. "I don't know," he said. "What are you like?"

She laughed, and her eyes were dancing. "Have we met before?"

He shook his head. "But I could swear that we have," he admitted.

Her grin became a smile. Then, for the first time since they had seen each other, she intentionally looked away from him. He saw a slight frown cross her face, but her gaze seemed unfocused for a moment.

"Are you all right?"

She took a deep breath and brought her gaze back to his eyes. Ned would have given anything to put that smile back on her face. "I would say that you're going to think I'm crazy," she said slowly. "But I'm not sure that's true. I... some men are planning to kidnap me. Tonight, I think."

Ned couldn't help it. He glanced over, toward Hardy. "Him?"

She pursed her lips, then shook her head slowly. "I don't think so. I've known Frank for a long time, and this... doesn't feel like him. It's three men. They're going to take me to the airport."

"Did you overhear someone making plans?"

She smiled. "Something like that," she said.

Ned tilted his head. "You actually seem excited."

"This will be the fourth time they've tried, and we've only been in town a few days." Then she searched his eyes. "Can you... is there some way we could stay in contact with each other? If I let them take me, at least that way we could figure out what's going on. I don't think it's just to get ransom money from my father."

"'We'?" he repeated, his eyes widening.

She grinned again. "You can, can't you? There's some way..."

He drew a swift breath. "Yes," he said, without even intending to tell her. "I've never, never met anyone like you. And I think that's a massive understatement."

"And I've been waiting a long time to meet you." She gently squeezed his shoulder. "So you'll do it? Help me catch these guys?"

_You're crazy. Crazy and reckless and dangerous._ If the guys she expected to kidnap her were the ones Ned thought they were, she would be putting herself in an incredible amount of danger, and she'd be very unlikely to escape. Now that he was near her, he could tell that she had ability, but she wasn't fey. She probably had some fey ancestry a few generations back, enough to make her precognitive or partially psychic, maybe enough to make her incredibly lucky. But she seemed to be completely without guile. With him, anyway.

"You don't know what you're asking. What you're getting into."

"And you do?" she asked eagerly, her chin up, those beautiful eyes searching his.

"I can guess," he told her. "If you could point them out..."

She shook her head. "All I know is shiny black shoes. And that could be almost anyone here."

She was right about that not narrowing the choices down. "Why would it help for us to be in contact?"

"I think they'll probably take my phone, so you wouldn't be able to track me that way. And I feel like—you have a way around that."

"And you trust me? We've just met."

"Are you sure?" Her eyes were dancing.

Ned shook his head slowly. "I could be one of those men planning on kidnapping you."

She shook her head immediately, although he saw a very quick flash of anxiety in her eyes. "If you did, it would be for an entirely different reason."

The song ended, and another one began. They didn't miss a beat as they began to move to the new rhythm. "You're very sure of yourself, aren't you," he murmured.

Above all, she was human, untouched, incredibly fragile. He couldn't remember the last time he had said more than a few words to a human, even in passing. He spent nearly all his time among his own kind or searching for enemies. He could crush the spark of her life in the blink of an eye, and she would never even register it.

But he never would hurt her. Not in a hundred lifetimes.

Because he belonged to her. As surely as she stood before him, even though they had really known each other for a handful of minutes, he was sure of it. In the hundreds of years he had been alive, he had never felt anything close to this.

"I'm sure of you," she told him. Then she gave him another small, nervous smile. "Will you help me?"

He knew it was a mistake, but he nodded. "I'll help you. Even though I think this is the worst idea."

She flashed him a grin. "So what do we do?"

He glanced around. Hardy—she had called him Frank—was talking to an older man at the edge of the crowd, and then he cast a glance at Nancy. Ned would have bet anything that he was involved. "Come with me," he said.

She moved surprisingly fast, for someone in tall spike heels. He held her hand in his strong grip, their fingers interlaced. Ned could feel that his heartbeat was starting to match hers. It was the strangest feeling.

The ballroom was near one of the hotel exits. She gave his hand a sharp tug, once they were in the hallway, and Ned's eyebrows rose again as she led him over to the window. "Mmm. No rain yet," she muttered.

"Is that good or bad?"

"Not sure. Probably good." She turned back to him. "So?"

He tried a few doors before finding an unoccupied room, a conference room dominated by three tables arranged in a horseshoe. He flipped on the lights, and both of them winced at the fluorescent glare overhead. Then he closed the double doors behind them, and she turned to him expectantly.

Ned took a deep, silent breath. "This will hurt," he said. "Are you sure about this?"

She nodded. "Will it work even if they sedate me?"

"Are you expecting that?"

"It happens a lot."

Ned couldn't stop an incredulous smile from curving his lips. "How many times have you been kidnapped?"

"I can't remember." She gave him an almost impish grin. "So, will it work?"

He nodded. "Even if you're passed out, yes."

"For how long?"

"Probably six hours."

She nodded. "Okay. Good. So what do we do?"

He stepped close to her, and though he saw her swallow, she didn't back away from him. He brought his hand up to her shoulder, then traced his fingertip down the smooth line of her neck. Just that contact almost made him shiver.

"I would have to take some of your blood."

She took a breath. "You do like to bite."

His eyebrows twitched up again. "Do you know how dangerous I am?" he murmured, and he felt how fast her heart was beating against his fingertip. "Because I don't think you do."

She searched his eyes. "I think you are dangerous," she said softly. "But not to me."

"That could be the last mistake you make."

She shook her head slowly, still keeping her gaze on his. "It could be, but it isn't," she said. "You—"

He considered asking her to close her eyes, or waiting until he was almost in place. But he couldn't help it. He wanted to see the look of shocked dismay and disbelief on her face.

He parted his lips slightly and let his incisors lengthen to fangs.

She gasped, her gaze flicking between his eyes and his mouth. "Wow," she whispered. "I... wow. Okay."

He felt both disappointment at her quiet acceptance and a rush of almost begrudging warmth for her. "That's all?"

She shrugged slightly. "A lot makes sense now," she said. "If you bite me, will I...?"

He smiled. "No," he told her. "There's more to it than that."

"Okay." She tilted her head to the side, offering him her smooth, pale neck.

The arousal that had been simmering in him burst into low, demanding flame at the sight. She was a beautiful woman, fragile but stubborn and strong, and this... he bit partners during sex, or when he needed blood to recover from injury. The circumstance felt far more like the former.

_"You're even more gorgeous in person."_

Ned traced his fingertip up and down her neck again, and saw all the marks of arousal in her: the way her pupils widened, the way her nipples hardened to peaks, the faint glow in her cheeks, her slightly parted lips. She was an innocent, but maybe danger turned her on. For a brief foolhardy second he imagined picking her up, perching her on the conference table and shimmying her tight skirt up to her hips—

He drew the ball of his thumb over her skin, finding where he wanted. "Try to relax," he told her, his voice just louder than a breath. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes." The word came out as a sigh.

He couldn't resist it. He leaned down and brushed his lips against her warm skin, breathing her in. He nuzzled against her and she swayed, and he looped his arm around her slender waist. She whimpered quietly when he flicked his tongue out, tasting her.

"Do you—have to do all this?" she forced out.

Ned smiled. "Fine," he murmured, stifling his disappointment. "Just trying to relax you..."

"And doing the opposite," she muttered.

Against his will, he imagined her sated and loose-limbed, her eyes closed. He blocked it out as fast as he could. Then he opened his mouth.

She whimpered again, reaching up to grip his shoulder, when he broke her skin and began to drink. He took just enough for what she wanted him to do, then soothed the twin wounds on her neck with the gentle flick of his tongue.

Oh, oh, he was lost. Her blood was intoxicating, and tasted like no one else. He made sure to lick his lips before he rose and gazed into her eyes again, trying not to scare her, but he wanted to pull her against him; he wanted to feel her perfect body warm and arching against his.

He had what she'd asked for. When he closed his eyes, he could feel her. _Can you hear me?_

_Yes._ Her blue eyes were so bright, full of wonder as they searched his. She grinned. "This is incredible," she whispered.

He nodded. "Now what?"

She reached up and touched the already-scabbed wounds in her neck; the skin was rapidly healing. "Wow," she whispered.

"If you're bitten by anyone else—like me, they'll be able to do the same thing," he told her. "They'll be able to track you too. It's not limited to the two of us." Not this way, anyway.

She nodded. "I wonder why they've..." Her voice trailed off, and she looked up into his eyes again. "What do you know? Why do you think they're trying to kidnap me?"

Ned glanced at the door, then back into her eyes. "When you asked if I was like you..."

"I have—I can see the future sometimes," she said, her voice very quiet. She didn't talk about it with many people; maybe she had been doubted in the past, or hurt for it. "I've seen you since I was fourteen, in my visions. I didn't know if you had too."

"I don't have that gift." His arm was still draped around her waist. His gaze flicked down to her neck. The bite marks were almost entirely healed. "But you're a virgin."

She flushed deeply. "And—"

"And the first person you fall in love with, the first person you give your heart to, will gain that gift. If he or she is—like me."

"A—a vampire."

"A non-human. Or, I suppose, a human who has the same kind of sensitivity you do."

She shook her head slightly. "Then—what is there to worry about?"

He tilted his head. "Do you think you can't be compelled?" he murmured. His fingers splayed at the small of her back. Were he to wrap her in his arms, she would never be able to escape. "The ability to see the future is very valuable. If these men want to procure you and sell you to the highest bidder, you could be compelled."

Her sapphire blue eyes were troubled as they searched his. "Rape?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head. "It's not out of the question, but it's the emotion behind it that's important. As soon as I was close to you, I could feel it, and they'll be able to feel it too. It makes you vulnerable. And anyone with the ability to influence your mind could take advantage of you."

She searched his eyes. Then she closed her own for a moment. He felt an almost imperceptible release of tension in her. "So the emotion doesn't have to be genuine, if it can be—faked, that way," she said, and opened her eyes again.

"Strictly speaking, no."

"So they could kidnap my father. Threaten him and compel me that way."

"They'd hardly need to, if their plan works..."

She smiled. "It won't. Can you protect him? For me?"

"I..."

"As long as the two of you are safe, I'll be fine." He could tell that her mind was churning a thousand miles an hour, but she wasn't projecting her thoughts to him. He didn't know what she was planning. "Promise me?"

"I'll make sure he's safe. But you—"

"I'll be fine." She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth, and he was struck by the momentary absurdity of it. She was so slender and fragile compared to him, and she was assuring him she would be fine. She had no idea who she was dealing with, and once they had her gift, they would have no further use for her...

She smoothed his brow and smiled at him. "You'd never hurt me," she said, so quietly. "And this doesn't end tonight. I've seen the future, remember?"

"So where does it end?"

She shook her head slowly. "Maybe it doesn't," she whispered.

\--

_Ned._

Now that she had a name to connect to the face, she kept speaking it in her head, careful to keep from projecting. She had done a bit of experimenting, and he could only hear her thoughts when she imagined sending them out to him. She would hate for him to overhear this. She probably sounded like a lovestruck teenager.

_Ned._

A part of her still couldn't believe they had actually _met_. That he was real, and so immediate, so— _much_. Everything about the night felt faintly surreal. At least he was making sure her father would be safe.

If she hadn't seen this already in a vision, she would have been completely disoriented. She had been walking back to the ballroom from a nearby bathroom, and the coast had appeared entirely clear; she still didn't know quite how they had managed it. She actually felt a begrudging admiration. The person who had grabbed her, a man, had jabbed something into her arm, and she felt like she was floating a few inches above her body. The rope around her wrists was tight, too tight to allow her any way to squirm out of them. She had tried several times. Having her hands free would definitely be useful.

The men would discover that she was no use to them, and they would let her go. She'd call a taxi and go back to her hotel, and she would ask Ned to meet her for coffee.

She couldn't wait to see him again. It was like her life was about to begin. She knew it had something to do with him, that it would be soon, but she had never clearly seen what would happen.

It had to work. She had seen what would come after tonight, and so she had to survive this.

Sometimes Nancy took risks because she had seen the other side. She couldn't count the number of times she had come close to dying, when she had found herself in situations that seemed to guarantee she wouldn't survive. She had always been able to dig deep and find a way out, if it meant turning a paperclip into a lockpick or blowing a circuit or bluffing her captor.

Two men were in the back of the limo, carrying on a conversation in rapid Italian. If she could just focus a little more—but it seemed impossible to pick out anything more than a few of the simpler words. They kept laughing. They didn't seem concerned about what she was doing. So they were going to sell her to someone else, and it would be that person's responsibility to evaluate her. Other than grabbing her and tossing her into the limo, they seemed to have zero interest in her.

_Ned._

She called his image to mind, and it was as familiar as the back of her own hand. A ripple of pleasure went down her spine, knowing that they were so close. He... he would move to the States, most likely. They would be together.

She focused on that mental image of him, even as her heart reached out to him too. She was already half in love with him. If all that mattered was genuine emotion, then she would definitely be safe.

She hoped.

_Nancy?_

_Yes. I'm here._ She closed her eyes. She was a little chilly; they had left her, without a coat or blanket, shivering in the floorboard. When the driver took a turn, she had to brace herself to keep from rolling nauseatingly into the facing seats. The upholstery was plush, but it also smelled like rubber and feet.

_Burt's with your dad. I'm heading to the airport. Try to stay calm._

She didn't laugh, but she wanted to. _After this, do you want to go out for coffee?_

She could hear the snort he made. _Let me guess, right after? It could be 2 a.m. and you wouldn't care. You have to take this seriously. You don't know how dangerous this is. Please be careful._

_I will._ She closed her eyes, imagining his handsome face again.

That lightheaded feeling had turned into nausea by the time they arrived at the airport; she could tell by the way the traffic changed, the shift in the lighting. They didn't pull up outside a terminal, of course; too public, too many potential witnesses to her kidnapping. She heard the spray of rain against the tires, the swish of the windshield wipers, and her stomach clenched.

The tarmac. A small jet, possibly private, to ferry her to the buyer. Or maybe the buyer would be on the plane, waiting for her. She didn't know.

Ned had said she could be compelled.

She shivered again. There was a lot she didn't know yet. She knew that in the future she would be safe, happy, with Ned, but she didn't know what would come first. Was it possible that whoever wanted her could not just share, but steal her visions?

She had felt conflicted about them for a while, but she depended on them to tell her what was coming. She didn't like the idea of being partially blind—even though most people didn't have the advantage she did. If her ability could be stolen...

She was working to control her breathing when the limo jerked to an abrupt stop, sending her sprawling on her belly, her cheek against the carpet. Immediately doors swung open; she felt the cold spatter of driving rain against her bare calves, and then a hand unceremoniously wrenched her out and onto the wet pavement. A private airplane stood waiting. The rain plastered the hair that had fallen out of her twist against her cheeks, doubtless ruining her makeup.

Giving herself over to fear would never do her any good.

But she couldn't even focus long enough to even consider what might happen, just what would come later. Ned's face, not some stranger's face, not anymore.

Unless... 

What if whoever was behind her kidnapping could change how they appeared? He had said she might be compelled.

Nancy closed her mouth and brought her chattering teeth together with a decisive click, squinting through the rain. The men who had kidnapped her had left her standing there, and had retreated to the shelter of the limo. Three tall, imposing fences topped with sharp barbed wire stood between this field and the main part of the airport. She wouldn't be able to make it through before she was caught.

Ned was on the way. And she would know him when she saw him.

She squared her shoulders, wishing that she'd planned better for this; at least she might have worn something that would stand up to the rain. Her lace dress had soaked through, and had left her trembling with cold. A bubble bath—

The plane door opened, and a tall woman with medium-brown skin emerged. The guys behind Nancy dropped their conversation to a lower murmur. She was scowling, an umbrella unfurled over her, a small bag in her other hand.

As soon as she was close enough, the woman began berating Nancy's kidnappers in rapid, irate Italian. Nancy slumped, her lashes lowering as she took the opportunity to study her surroundings. The limo driver was still inside the vehicle; if she could induce him or her to leave, she might be able to commandeer it. The plane looked similar to one she had flown before. She just needed to get the damn rope off her wrists.

Nancy was pretty sure the tall woman wasn't the buyer, but when one of the men began untying her wrists, her heart clenched in anticipation. Now was her chance.

"Hold her."

The words were spoken in Italian, but Nancy recognized them. The sedative, or whatever they had given her, was wearing off.

_I'm almost there._

_Two guys kidnapped me. Limo driver and a tall woman—_

Nancy hissed as her arm was forced straight; she saw the needle in the woman's hand and bucked. It would be all the worse for her if they injected her with something.

"Stay still," the woman said, in heavily-accented English, glaring into Nancy's eyes. "Or I will have him choke you until you pass out."

If she was lucky, he would stop there. The implication was clear. Nancy gave her a small nod, gasping for breath, unable to stop herself from trembling at the cold. The woman was still scowling, but she bent over her work.

_I could punch her. Take my chances with the other guys..._ Nancy couldn't help it; she wanted to get to the plane. It was likely that the person behind her kidnapping was there, or that she would at least find a clue about the person's identity.

_Please, just wait for me._

The woman took the blood she had just drawn and drew swipes of it over a card gridded with what Nancy guessed were reagents. She nodded eagerly at the first three results; then she reached the fourth, and her chin jerked up, her gaze fiery as it met Nancy's. Nancy just raised her chin a little, keeping her teeth clenched so they wouldn't chatter quite so much.

"Useless."

It took a moment for Nancy to mentally translate the growled word. Then the woman drew a syringe out of her bag. The liquid inside was dark.

The men asked something about taking her back. The tall woman shook her head as she removed the cap on the needle. Nancy didn't understand all the words she fired back, but one came through loud and clear: _kill_.

Nancy struggled, but to no avail; her captors had grip like iron. She cried out in shock and pain when the needle punctured her skin. The injection itself burned like acid.

_Almost there—_

_Ned,_ she cried out, all her fear and pain in that one gasp, and then there was darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Nancy wouldn't wake.

In a panic, Ned had taken her limp, soaking-wet body and loaded her into his car. The last thing she had projected to him was the image of a glowering woman holding a syringe. _This should kill her quickly._

She was resting in bed, and Ned knew that he was being impatient, but she wouldn't wake. He had given her half his blood. She should be awake. Nothing should have been able to keep her down.

He sat at her bedside, studying her face. She was beautiful. He had stolen a few glances while stripping her out of her soaked clothes and drying her off, searching for any other puncture wounds or injuries. He'd seen a few puncture marks in the creases of her elbows, but that was it.

He didn't know what to do. A human hospital would hardly be able to help, and he wasn't sure how much help a vampire doctor would be in this case. If his blood didn't work to restore her soon—maybe his blood was all that was keeping her alive, and once it was metabolized—

_After this, do you want to go out for coffee?_

She had seemed so confident. For a few seconds, even he had believed.

Ned released a long sigh and reached for his laptop.

The vampire who answered his call was blond and handsome. His hair was also rumpled, so early in the morning. Ned had spent a sleepless night trying to figure out what to do, waiting for some sign that his treatment was working. The blond man was more than twice Ned's age, and served as a doctor for both vampires and humans. Ned hoped he would be able to help.

To stay undetected in human society, the other vampire changed his name every forty or so years, moved somewhere else, and started over. He had countless medical degrees and hundreds of years of experience, although his understanding of medicine had changed significantly over time. When they had first met, the doctor's name had been Trevor Callahan, so that was how Ned always thought of him.

"Ned. What's going on?"

"I met a human last night. She—she's precognitive, and she convinced me to try to track her; she had foreseen that she would be kidnapped. And she was, but I'd taken some of her blood, so we were able to stay in contact. After she was kidnapped, though, they tested her blood and didn't like the results. They injected her with something. She won't wake up."

"Virgin?"

Ned nodded. Trevor understood the significance.

"And they didn't like the results of her blood test. Hmm." Trevor stifled a huge yawn and then rubbed the heel of his hand against his stubbled chin. "Could you get a sample to me, maybe on ice overnight?"

Ned pressed his lips together as he considered. "That might be too late. Plus, I've given her about half of my own blood, so I'm not sure how useful a sample might be."

"Half?" Trevor raised his eyebrows. "And she's still unconscious? That is a bad sign."

Ned nodded. "I don't know what to do to wake her up."

"She's precognitive..." Trevor glanced up, considering. "Did she... know you?"

Ned nodded reluctantly. "I felt like I knew her too," he muttered. "I know it's ridiculous."

Given his age, Ned had given up on settling down permanently with anyone. Two centuries ago, after that colossal mistake, he had known it wasn't to be for him. And Nancy was a human. They could have a relationship, but it would be frowned upon. She had less than eighty years left, most likely, and then she would be gone.

He was attracted to her; that was undeniable. But he knew better than to act on it. He'd end up breaking her heart, or breaking his own. And he never wanted to come anywhere close to that kind of pain again.

Trevor shrugged. "Bond with her," he suggested.

Ned's mouth dropped open. "No," he said immediately. "I... no."

"Why?"

He ran his fingers through his hair. "For what?" he countered.

"Because you two knew each other before you met," Trevor said, as though he was going down a mental checklist, ticking off his fingers. "Because she's gifted. Because you've exchanged blood with her. I think bonding to her has a chance of working, to help her wake up."

"Why? I mean..." Ned's heart was beating harder. He glanced over at the bed; she hadn't changed. "She's human. She..."

Trevor's brow cleared. "She'll become demi," he said, searching Ned's eyes.

"Demi?"

Trevor nodded. "It's usually women," he said. "Human women who are compatible with us. They don't turn, exactly..."

Ned knew they couldn't turn people. They could feed off humans, even kill them if their feeding went too far. But vampirism wasn't thanks to an infection or a virus, so a human couldn't possibly turn into a vampire. "I don't understand."

Trevor glanced down, clearly debating how to talk about it. "They become demi-vampires," he said, meeting Ned's eyes again. "They don't feed; they don't have fangs. But they gain some of our advantages. You know that if a gifted human falls for someone like us, we gain their gifts."

Ned nodded, trying not to appear impatient. He wasn't sold on Trevor's idea. "That's why I think they were trying to take her. But she's a virgin. I don't know what would have made them decide she wasn't worth it. Unless they wanted her for some other reason."

Trevor shrugged. "Your blood can help her overcome whatever poison or virus is in her, but she's still human. If you bond with her, she'll become demi. There's nothing more effective that I or anyone else could do for her."

"When you say 'bond.'" Ned paused, unsure about how to say it. "You mean the way I would with—another one of us."

Trevor nodded. "It may be more intimacy than you want to share with her, but based on everything else, I think it will work. I'd offer to test her blood, but as you said—you can't give me a clean sample."

Ned bid Trevor a distracted goodbye and closed his laptop, looking over at the bed again. She was breathing steadily, but showed no signs of waking. He went over to her and said her name a few times, gently shook her shoulder, but she didn't respond.

Bonding with another vampire began with a mutual affection, and was usually between family members or friends or lovers. He had definitely, in his first century, slept with several women but bonded with few of them. Bonding was a mental connection akin to the one he had shared with Nancy after drawing her blood, but it was stronger and deeper. For as long as both parties maintained the bond, it remained in place. When he lost track of someone, when the other person became a stranger, the bond faded and eventually disappeared, though the echoes generally lasted some months. With his longest-term ex, thanks to her persistence, the bond hadn't entirely vanished until a few years ago.

He had never heard of bonding with a human. He had never heard of a human becoming a partial vampire. Of course some vampires had relationships of all kinds with humans, up to and including sexual; of course he'd felt an echo of the bonding in the exchange of blood. But bonding represented vulnerability, and he hadn't even known her a day. Sharing so much of himself with a virtual stranger was out of the question.

Although he already had, and he knew that. He had broken so many rules and crossed so many lines in the brief time they had known each other. And here he was, looking down at her and considering doing something he could hardly imagine.

The bonding would last as long as they both wanted it. As soon as she had recovered, he could release her from it. If bonding with her turned her half-vampire... maybe she wouldn't want that at all, and it would be a relief to her, to become human again. Assuming that was even a possibility. He imagined it was.

He took a deep breath and reached for her hand. _Nancy?_

He didn't expect it to work; it had been far longer than the six hours a blood exchange generally gave him. But she carried his blood in her veins now. _Ned_ , she answered, although she didn't so much as flutter an eyelash. And he was watching for it.

_I've tried to help but you won't wake up._

_I can't._ She sounded almost eerily calm.

_Are you dying?_

_No._ She was firm about that. _I won't die. You'll find a way to fix this._

Ned raised his eyebrows. _Trevor suggested something, but maybe there's another way—_

_What is it?_

_It would turn you into something like me. A half-vampire. You wouldn't feed or have fangs, but you would be stronger, and that might be enough to help you get better. Once you're okay again, I can—take it back._

_Oh._ He could almost hear her mind whirring as she considered. _Then I think we should try it._

_We._ He smiled. _I don't know if you understand what will happen..._

_You're nervous._ He wished she would move, respond _somehow_ , but she didn't move at all. _But I've seen this, and it makes sense. Please try._

_You've seen this?_

_I've seen what comes after, and I know we make it through this. Please try, Ned._

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. This felt like the worst option he could possibly try, but he wasn't sure he had any more, other than just waiting it out. And he sincerely didn't think he could.

He slowly relaxed the mental barriers he always kept raised, and reached for her.

\--

Nancy slowly regained consciousness.

She could remember it; she would never forget it. The feel of him—in a way that both wasn't a feeling at all, and was far more than any simple feeling. His mind had enveloped hers, and it felt like warmth and comfort and quiet joy. He was so strong, so incredibly powerful, but he had been so gentle with her.

Even so, she felt something shift inside her, and then it was like fire in her veins, whatever he was doing—maybe. She felt it everywhere, down to her fingers and toes, up to her scalp and into her brain. She ached with the need to scream, to let it out somehow, but she wasn't able to move, even long enough to part her lips.

The burning became more and more intense until she felt sweat beading her brow. Nothing made sense anymore, and though she knew she would be all right, panic overwhelmed her. She had to get it out somehow. She pictured the contents of that terrible vial being forced to the surface and flowing out of her, in case that could possibly help, and could almost believe it was working. She needed to be okay again. She would be okay again. He would make sure of it.

Then a freezing wave swept over her, and at first it was a relief; it left her tingling. Within a few moments, though, she felt like she was made of ice, a burning-cold ice. She reached out for him again, and as soon as she did, the paralysis that had kept her still seemed to break. She began to shiver, her teeth chattering.

_Ned. So cold._

The pain was too much to endure. She couldn't even think anymore, and it felt like freezing vapor was coming from her very pores. Her teeth ached. Her bones, her joints, felt frozen.

She drifted away, sinking down into herself. She couldn't focus. She could barely breathe. She lost herself, even though she could feel Ned's concern and anxiety.

She didn't know how much time passed. When she rose toward consciousness again, she was still cold, but it was better now. She took a breath and took accounting of herself. All her fingers and toes seemed to be there. Her...

She was in someone's arms. Ned's arms. He was warm as a furnace against her. His bare chest was broad and muscular. And she was naked.

"Mmm—"

She could remember his voice, soft but firm. He hadn't been talking to her. He—the woman, the plane—

"Shhh." He stroked her back. "Hey, you're back."

The blush that spread up her chest and over her face thoroughly dispelled the chill. She opened her eyes.

He was so close to her, so close that all she could see was his face, his concerned dark eyes. Her heart melted. "Hey," she whispered. Her voice was rough from sleep.

"Do you feel all right?"

"I don't know yet." He was so close to her. That was all she could think about. He was so close to her. Her breasts were pressed directly against his warm, bare chest. It wasn't sexual, but as soon as she was aware of it, she felt curious and embarrassed and so happy.

Then their gazes locked, and she could see the realization hit him. She had known for a long time that this was the relationship she was meant to have; she had just prayed she was right. Thank God she was.

"You said I looked even better in person. You'd seen me before. In your visions."

She nodded slowly.

"What did you see?"

"That we will be together," she whispered.

"Together?" He cupped her cheek, and her internal temperature seemed to spike another ten degrees when his thumb stroked her cheekbone. She couldn't speak.

"How will we—"

He closed his eyes, and she could feel it. He was having a vision. If she loved him, and she did, then he would have her ability too. He had her heart. He'd had it for a long time, but as soon as she had seen him, she had known.

Then he pulled in a ragged breath and opened his eyes again, and she saw them glowing with intensity and need. "It's you," he whispered. "I've waited two hundred years for you. My whole life, for you. Oh my God..."

She reached up and cupped his cheek. "And I've waited seven for you," she whispered, and smiled. "Must not seem like so much to you."

_You're mine._

_And you're mine._

_Always._

_Always. Forever._

_Oh my God..._

He brought his head down and brushed his lips against hers. She whimpered softly, both aware and unafraid of being naked around him. He wouldn't hurt her. Even though her visions had never shown her what sleeping with him would be like, she knew it would happen, and that she would enjoy it.

She wasn't afraid. But she wondered if it would be now; she wondered what would happen.

His tongue traced the seam of her closed lips, and she immediately parted them, running her fingers through his hair as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. She had kissed other men before, but none of them had ever made her feel this way. She'd never been in a situation like this with any other man, though. And she never would be. She knew that, down to her bones.

"I love you," he whispered when he broke the kiss. He pulled back slightly and looked into her eyes, and she saw fear and vulnerability and need there.

She nodded and smiled. "I love you too," she whispered. "I have loved you for so long."

He moved over her, so she was on her back and he was on top of her, and kissed her again. Her heart was beating so, so terribly fast. She didn't know what to do, just to return the kiss and stroke her fingertips over his soft skin. She loved touching him, and she almost couldn't believe that he was in bed with her this way, holding her this way—

He had been so alone. She could feel it in him. He had thought that he would always be alone, for all eternity, because he was virtually immortal. Most vampires found their partners before they were a hundred years old. Ned was much older than that. He'd never had a vision of Nancy. He had never even known that she was in his future.

And he had hungered to belong to someone, to feel that someone truly loved him and would be devoted to him. He had been so disappointed when he hadn't found that. He had worked so hard to make himself independent and strong, and he had been successful at it. He didn't need anyone. And no one needed him.

But she did. And he had—

His knee nudged her legs apart and she whimpered again, still responding eagerly to his kiss. They were moving too fast, but he was making up for lost time, for all he had thought he could never have.

He had changed her. He had changed her to save her.

He was panting softly when he pulled back. He was nothing like she had ever imagined a vampire would be, although she had never wasted much time wondering. He wasn't ice-cold; his eyes didn't look inhuman. He looked thoroughly, undeniably handsome, masculine, and human. Until she saw his fangs, anyway. "I apologize," he murmured. "You've barely recovered from your ordeal last night, and..."

She reached up and caressed his face. "And this is what we were meant to have," she whispered. "Maybe not right now, but we will. And no matter what, I'll be with you, loving you. I've been falling in love with you for the past seven years, and..."

He blinked. "You knew I'd change you," he murmured.

She nodded. Then her stomach growled, loudly.

Ned smiled and slowly moved off her. "That's my cue," he told her. "Your father is also worried sick about you. To be continued."

Her stomach sank. "Promise?"

He looked into her eyes, sat beside her on the bed, and lost the smile. "Tonight? I... I'll do whatever you want."

There was so much vulnerability in him, and her heart was warmed. "I'll come to you. Here?"

"We could do dinner."

"Do you eat?"

He grinned, and she knew she could just stare at him for the rest of her life. "Of course," he said. "I know a few fantastic restaurants near—well, I'm not sure where you're staying, but is it near the hotel you were in last night?"

She nodded. "I'd love to have dinner with you. Before we—pick up where we just left off."

He raised one eyebrow. "You... oh..." He glanced down, and she realized with a start that she had sat up and was naked to the waist, and that she hadn't even realized it or felt strange about it. Then he took a slow breath.

"You... _putain_. I didn't know it would be like this..."

"What?"

_Your smell. I can—I could smell it last night. I knew that you'd never been in love. And right now—when a person falls in love, it changes that scent. And your smell has changed._

_So other vampires will know that I belong to you._

His slow smile became a grin almost immediately. "If I don't take you back to your father, I never will," he murmured.

"That's okay," she said, trying to sound casual. "Although, um, where are my clothes?"

\--

Ned couldn't help it. He had been a little surprised when Nancy's father hadn't questioned that a man he had never met before was with his daughter, all night. Carson Drew apparently hadn't questioned it when Dave had approached him, introduced himself, and told him that Nancy was recovering from her adventure, but safe. Carson had practically insisted on going to see her at the hospital, though. Dave had kept him distracted; he was pretty sure that if Nancy's return had been delayed a few hours, Carson would have driven to every hospital in Rome looking for his daughter.

And Ned had felt every single second they were apart. He had finally found his _one_. His disappointment and anger had made him believe that she didn't exist, that he would never find her, but he had never stopped wanting this. That feeling of belonging, of almost infinite need, had only grown stronger. And she actually would be his. He knew that now.

The overwhelming loneliness, the feeling of being incomplete—he was only just beginning to admit to himself that it was over, and that this was true. He had her visions. She was in love with him, after knowing him for barely a day, because she had known him far longer than that.

He wished he had known too, but it would have driven him crazy. He had wanted this for so long, and he was so close.

He needed her. And although he prided himself on his self-control, he needed to finish what they had started earlier, what he had started. She was a virgin, and he would need to take it slow.

It had been over a hundred years since he himself had had sex. Maybe taking it slow was the best plan for both of them.

She wore a dark-blue sleeveless sheath dress a shade darker than her eyes. Her blonde hair, barely touched by a copper-red, was half pulled back, and a pearl earring dangled from each creamy lobe. A silver bracelet circled her slender wrist. Her skin was luminous, and he knew it would be velvet-soft against his. When their gazes locked, she smiled slowly. It came to him in a sudden rush, that she was just as ready as he was for this, maybe even more so. He had known her for twenty-four hours, but she had been waiting for him for seven years.

He didn't mean to project it to her, but as soon as he took her hand, he thought, _So you've seen us having sex?_

She smiled, blushing slightly, but shook her head. _When I have a vision, I—_ become _the person who will see it. And I know we will. I've seen... before it, after it. But never that._

_I wonder why._

_I don't know. Maybe because I have no frame of reference for it._

_Do you want to learn tonight?_

_Yes._ Her answer was immediate.

Ned grinned. _Good_.

He had eaten at the restaurant at least twenty times. That night, he saw none of it, only her. His gaze feasted on her. She had fully recovered from her ordeal with no ill effects, or at least none he could see. Her skin was beautiful, smooth and healthy, no longer waxen and blue-pale. Her eyes were clear, so she must have been able to get some rest. And she looked so incredibly gorgeous.

She was his. No one had ever been his. Not like this.

"Why do you think they gave up on kidnapping me after they tested my blood?"

He smiled. "I feel like you have a theory."

"Well." She glanced down, then peered at him through her lashes. He thought his heart might stop. "I... I concentrated on what you'd talked about. If I was in love with you, then they couldn't take anything from me. Could that have been it?"

"Possibly." Ned took a sip of wine, considering. "I need to talk to a few people, but somehow I doubt it. As you said, you still could have been coerced, with the right threats. They didn't try that. So maybe they weren't trying to take your gift. Maybe they wanted you for another reason."

She wrinkled her nose. Her perfect nose. She was so young, and so incredibly beautiful. "I'd hate to think that it's something boring, like kidnapping me to get my father to pay ransom," she murmured. "Besides, it couldn't have been that. Why would they have taken my blood? And what in my blood would have made them decide not to take me? I'm still my father's daughter..." Her eyes widened, but then she shook her head. "No, there's no way. I look too much like him."

Ned chuckled. "So last night wasn't an aberration," he said. "This is how you are all the time."

She nodded and grinned. "Does that scare you?"

He shook his head. "Not anymore," he said. "Trevor said that you'd be like me, and I hope that means you'll be stronger and faster. And..." He gestured between them. "At least now you'll have backup."

"You said our connection would last six hours...?"

"I replaced about half your blood with mine last night, trying to help heal you. I'm sure that boosted it again. And our bonding, too..."

"When you..." _When I felt you all around me. It was incredible._

_You have no idea. How it will be._

_I can't wait to find out._

After their dinner was finished, they went back to his hotel. If it were up to him, he'd have her on a plane and heading to his home, where he could lock himself in with her for as long as they needed. He doubted her father would be on board with that idea, though. Not that he cared.

Once they were inside his room, she looked around at the candles, the luscious bouquet of a dozen perfect blood-red roses, the superior-vintage bottle of wine and two glasses. Then she smiled at him, and he knew that she had perceived his nervousness. It was ridiculous. He was acting like he had never been with any other woman before.

_It's been a long time, hasn't it._

He nodded, slowly. He couldn't stop himself from gazing deeply into her eyes. He wanted to pull back, to hide what he was feeling from her—but he couldn't. _I've never had this. You'll have to stop me if I..._

She had already laid her purse down, and stepped out of her shoes. She came to him and cupped his face in her hands, meeting his gaze without flinching, and he saw no pity in her expression. _I've never had this either,_ she told him, searching his eyes. _The way you touched me... feeling you so close to me. Please..._

He leaned down, and her hand slid down to cup the nape of his neck as he kissed her, slow and deep. When his arm slid around her waist she shuddered once, hard, and clung to him. He stepped forward and she flushed as she realized that he was backing her toward the bed. He could feel the prickly heat against his own skin.

_Is this part of bonding?_

He pulled back and shook his head. "We are bonded," he said, his voice a low growl that sent a shudder down her spine. Her cheeks were red, her blue eyes glowing, her soft lips parted. "But this... I just want you so much. I feel like I'll go out of my mind if we don't..."

She nodded. Then she swallowed and reached behind her, unzipping her dress, before she stood on her tiptoes again.

Ned groaned as he lowered her to the bed, slipping a hand under the soft fabric of her dress to stroke up her thigh, up to her underwear. She released a soft, breathy whimper that made him feel both incredibly protective and insanely possessive. His fingers closed around the side of her panties. _Dieu_ , he could remember when undressing a woman was far, far more complicated.

His fingertips slid beneath the delicate lace stretched over her hip and he nuzzled against her neck, flicking his tongue out to taste her, and she moaned.

He hadn't even offered to open the wine. She didn't seem to care, and he didn't want to release her long enough to ask. Her fingers touched the first button of his shirt and he shifted so she could unbutton it and take it off him, his knee sliding up between her thighs.

"Mmm." Once his shirt was open, she stroked her palms over his broad shoulders, to his shoulder blades. He picked her up easily and moved her toward the center of the bed, then shoved her dress above her hips. Her silky blush-pink panties were warm and a little damp under his fingers, and the sides were the lace he had felt.

Nancy gasped loudly when he slid his fingers under the elastic band and gently stroked her between her thighs. He glanced up at her, and saw that her face was deeply flushed, but she wasn't closing her legs or asking him to move away. In fact, she parted her legs a little more.

Ned smiled as he moved down, nuzzling and kissing her neck as he gently stroked the soft flesh between her legs. He was a little surprised when she arched her back, moving to take off her dress. Her perfect breasts rose and fell beneath her blush-pink bra, and she quivered when he stroked his lips against the delicate skin just above the edge of her bra.

"You're untouched," he whispered. "Mmm."

"Is that okay?"

He moved back and kissed her just beneath her earlobe, then against the soft skin of her neck. _I would have loved you no matter what. But I can't help feeling glad you were able to share your gift with me._

_I was always going to. This is always how we were going to be._

Ned had just reached for his fly to unfasten his pants when Nancy's purse started to make noise. She jumped, her gaze rising to his face. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged, a small smile on his face. "It's all right..."

They both relaxed a little when her phone fell silent. They were kissing deeply, her knees bent and her parted thighs soft around his hips, when it began to ring again.

Ned groaned as he broke the kiss. His need for her hadn't faded at all; if anything, it felt even more insistent.

"I—I'll turn it off," Nancy said apologetically, holding her unfastened bra against her breasts as she rushed to her purse. Ned just watched for a moment, his gaze tracing the lines of her, her sides and her hips, her shapely smooth legs, the silky hair tumbling down to her shoulder blades. He was expecting her to hastily turn the phone off and hurtle back toward the bed, but when she checked the screen, she swiped it and brought it to her ear.

Slowly, with the deliberate grace of a predator, Ned slid out of the bed and stalked over to her. He slid his arms around her waist and nuzzled against the exposed side of her neck, away from her phone. With any luck, he could wordlessly draw her back to bed with him—with her intruding phone silenced.

She shuddered against him. "Frank? Hey, what's going on?"

Ned stiffened. He hadn't talked to her about the man he had seen her dancing with the night before. The night they had met for the first time.

She hadn't been wrong. They were definitely moving far faster than he had ever expected.

He felt a shift in her, and slowly, very reluctantly released her. She took the hand holding her bra down and dragged it through her hair, and Ned swallowed hard. She was so unconsciously sexy. He'd had hundreds of years to master his impulses, but with her... he hadn't been exaggerating his desperation.

"What do you—right now?" She glanced at her bare left wrist, then at the alarm clock beside the bed. "Um... if you think so... okay. Where?"

When she hung up the phone, Ned gazed steadily at her expression. She looked like she was lost in thought, gazing toward the carpeted floor, and completely unaware of her current state of undress. "I—He said he knows something about what happened last night. He wants to meet."

Ned immediately wanted to shake his head, but he kept watching her instead. "Mmm?"

She had spoken slowly, and she gave her head a little shake, then looked into Ned's eyes. Then she reached behind her and refastened her bra. "He says they're going to try again. I..."

"It's a trap."

She raised her eyebrows. "Did you—have a vision?"

He shook his head. "No. Have you?"

She sighed and reached for her dress, looking away again. He really didn't want to get dressed again, but he didn't think she would be returning to the bed. "They don't always come, and I can't really control them. I don't know anything about this. I only know that we'll be together for a long time after this..."

Ned shook his head. "If you depend on that, what if you make a mistake?"

She met his gaze again and gave him a small smile before putting her dress back on. She turned so he could zip it for her. "Don't think I haven't considered that," she murmured. "You don't like him."

"I don't," he agreed easily, zipping up her dress when all he wanted was to slide it off again. "And I don't think you should go tonight."

Her eyes flashed when she turned to face him again. "And if I tell you I'm going, whether you agree or not?"

"Then I'd ask if I could go with you, either obviously or in the background. Mostly because I want to get us back here as soon as I possibly can." He reached for his discarded shirt.

After a moment, her expression softened and turned to a smile. "At least this time you won't have to bite me to keep in contact with me."

He made sure her gaze was on his face as he gave her a slow, possessive smile. "I won't _have_ to," he repeated, but his eyes were dark, glowing with intent.

She flushed, but didn't lose the smile. "Then let's see what he wants, so we can get back here," she suggested.

Once they were both fully clothed, Ned found his room key and held the door for her. "So, where does your father think you are tonight?"

She flashed a glance over her shoulder as she led the way to the lobby. "Uh—he doesn't keep very close tabs on me, most of the time. I told him I was going to be hanging out with a friend tonight."

"Friend," he repeated. "Hmm."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "'I'm going to go lose my virginity to my future husband' didn't have the right ring to it."

Ned's face remained impassive as he took a few long strides forward and laced his fingers between hers, leading her to his car, the same car he had used to transport her when she had been drenched and unconscious the night before. "We should probably talk about that," he commented.

"Oh." She blushed even more deeply. "I—I'm sorry."

He gave his head a little shake, opening the door for her before he crossed to the driver's side. "We don't do marriage," he told her. "Vampires don't. Is that part of your vision of me?"

She opened her mouth and closed it. "I... I'm wearing rings. I remember noticing that once. And I think of you as my—as my husband. I'm sorry. I know we've barely known each other a day."

He put the car in gear, glancing around before he pulled rapidly out of the lot. "Where are we meeting him?"

"The café just down from my hotel. Caffe Dara."

He nodded, pulling out into traffic so quickly that he heard Nancy gasp quietly beside him. He glanced over at her, a small smile on his lips. "Sorry. You were saying?"

"Your parents are—" She caught herself, then trailed off. "If they aren't married?"

"They're together." He shrugged. "I think in some ways that's a lot easier for humans. Your lifespans are so much shorter. And you're... preoccupied by the concept of love."

"But you aren't."

He glanced over at her and saw no sarcasm or skepticism on her face. Then he took a long, slow breath, checking his rearview. "I haven't been in a long time," he said. "Most of us find the person we'll be with early in our lives. When that didn't happen..."

She waited a beat, then touched his arm. _It's okay. I'm here now. It's okay._

_It's not even love. It's a question of compatibility. With a thousand years in front of you, priorities are different. We need to talk about what's going to happen when we get to the café._

Nancy laughed, and the sound was musical. "It'll be fine. I've known Frank for a long time."

Ned glanced over at her again. "And has he changed? Maybe recently?"

She shrugged. "I... not that I've noticed, I don't think. Why?"

"Because you were able to see me on the dance floor." Their gazes met for an instant before he negotiated another turn. "I can influence humans, make sure they don't see me. You saw me anyway, even when I was consciously fighting that. That's why I thought you must be fey."

"Maybe it's because I've been looking for you for seven years." He could hear that she was smiling. "I'm glad I saw you anyway, though. To be so close to you, and not know..."

Ned found a parking spot near the café and pulled in. Nancy unfastened her seatbelt, but waited for him to come around and open the door for her. He could tell she was almost bemused by it, but she thanked him with a smile.

He laced his fingers between hers again as they walked toward the café. The day had been sunny and bright, but the pavement was shining from what must have been a brief, intense rain. They had been so wrapped up in each other that he had entirely missed it.

_He's dangerous. Maybe it's recent, but I promise you that he is. Please be careful._

_I will._

_Just because you can see what will come after this..._

_I know. Boy, you're bossy._

His eyebrows shot up and he glanced over at her, and she dissolved into happy laughter. He couldn't help thinking that she wasn't taking this at all seriously enough, but he understood. He had found her. It couldn't be over like this, not like this.

And she had been shivering in his arms, likely near death, that morning.

They walked into the café still holding hands, and Ned resisted the urge to shield himself from view of the humans around them, lingering over coffee and confections. Both of them saw Frank immediately, and that tightness was still obvious near his eyes. His face and lips were pale. 

Ned tensed. He wanted to push Nancy behind him, protect her from her old friend. He hoped that he had warned her enough, but she hadn't even known that he was a vampire. He had a feeling she knew little of the dangers of the world around her. Human criminals were one thing, and to Ned they were almost inconsequential.

Frank's lips tightened. "I wanted you to come alone," he said, gesturing for them to sit down. A steaming cup of coffee had been placed beside him, but he seemed to have forgotten about it. "Are you all right?"

Nancy nodded, sitting down directly across from Frank at the small table. Ned took the seat beside her, but turned so he could see the doorway. The last thing he wanted was an ambush.

Her beautiful blue eyes were luminous, fixed on Frank, and Ned felt a spike of jealousy in his stomach. If he hadn't bonded with her, Ned would have thought that she was foolish, reckless. But she was just energized by the opportunity to learn more about the people who had kidnapped her and poisoned her.

"Good." Frank brought his hand from his lap to the table. A napkin was draped over it—and Ned saw the glint of the gun beneath. "There's a car outside, Nancy. We're getting into it. You're staying here." Frank glanced over at Ned, warning him. "If you ever want to see your father again—"

"Frank." Nancy said his name with a disappointed sigh.

"Get up. Slowly."

Nancy took a slow breath, her gaze darting between Frank's face and the gun. _Not exactly the way I wanted tonight to go._

Ned fought to keep his expression impassive. She was cheeky as hell, and he kind of loved it. _You aren't getting in any car with him._

_You can keep track of me, where we are..._

_And that worked so well last time._ Ned reached for her hand under the table and squeezed it.

Frank made a frustrated sound and pushed his chair back. His jaw was set hard. "Now."


	3. Chapter 3

Nancy looked into Frank's eyes, her heart aching. She had known him for a long time, and for him to threaten her this way, to threaten her father—it was like she didn't know him at all.

_He's dangerous._

Ned had known. Nancy still wasn't sure how Ned had known.

She felt like Alice through the looking glass. Everything was different, all that was familiar was unfamiliar—except for Ned. Maybe that was why she still felt like she was lost in a dream. For the longest time, she had only seen Ned in dreams.

"What's going on?" Ned asked, his voice almost disturbingly calm. "Why do you need Nancy to come with you?"

Frank shook his head quickly, like Ned was just some vaguely irritating mosquito. His gaze was still focused on Nancy. He gestured quickly with the gun. "Come on," he said.

Nancy began to rise. While it was hard to look away from the gun, she felt like she needed to hold Frank's gaze, like she could appeal to their shared history and the affection she knew he felt for her. Had felt for her. Ned tightened his grip on her hand, though.

_He has a gun on me,_ she directed toward Ned. Maybe a gun wouldn't hurt him, but she was damn sure it would hurt her.

Ned made a quick gesture with his fingers.

It happened faster than Nancy could see. When they had walked in, she had seen a few other patrons; apparently responding to the gesture Ned had made, a blur headed for Frank. She jumped, but Ned's hand was steady against hers. He was unsurprised by what was happening in front of them.

Frank fought back, savagely. Nancy saw the flash of his teeth in a feral gesture that startled her. For as long as she had known Frank, he had been methodical, dependable, reliable. This wasn't him. If vampires existed, maybe shapeshifters did, too. Maybe this wasn't Frank at all.

The scuffle wasn't loud, but it was impossible for Nancy to watch. Then Frank was standing there, panting, his arms behind him. A tall dark-haired man stood beside him, chest rising and falling a little faster than what Nancy considered normal, but he seemed unconcerned. He gazed at Ned and gave him a little head shake.

Ned stood, his hand still grasping Nancy's, and she brought herself to her feet. "Come on," he said. "She's not going anywhere with you. What's going on?"

When Frank's shoulders slumped and he hung his head, Nancy's heart sank. Despite his behavior tonight, it was impossible not to think of him as her good friend, as the guy who had had her back so many times. "Please," she whispered. "Can we help?"

She could feel Ned's almost palpable resistance to that idea, but she ignored it.

Frank sniffled and glanced up. His eyes were gleaming with tears. "They have Joe," he whispered. "And they'll only let him go if you come with me."

Nancy glanced up at Ned, dismayed. _Frank's brother,_ she said, replying to his faintly quizzical look. _We've worked together several times. Ned..._

_You aren't going with him,_ Ned said, and he wasn't going to brook any argument; she could tell.

"Who is they?" Ned asked, sitting back down.

\--

"I don't understand."

Ned glanced over at her. "They want you," he said. "Howie and Mike will go and check it out. If it's what I think it is, they'll take care of it. I might go with them. But you're not coming within ten miles of it."

Nancy crossed her arms. Her lower lip poked out a little, and her brows drew together.

Ned sighed, pulling into the parking lot at the hotel. He needed her, and he had a feeling that soon, whatever irritation she was feeling would evaporate.

"Why? I'm in love with you. _You_ have that bond with me. They don't, so they can't want me for my visions. It's not like I'd be in danger."

He unbuckled his seatbelt, then circled the car and opened her door for her. She reached for his hand and he helped her out of the car, taking in the sight of her long, silk-smooth legs with a soft rumble of approval. Every second they spent away from the hotel was another second he wasn't able to put his hands all over that warm, silky flesh.

He waited until they were in the elevator to answer. "Consider what they did to your friend. They gained leverage over him by kidnapping his brother, and were able to induce him to try to kidnap you." He paused. "Now imagine what would happen if they kidnapped your father, if they were threatening him. What wouldn't you do?"

She shivered, and Ned slid his arm around her waist. "Can it work that way?"

"Would it? It could. They could put you into a powerful man's entourage and demand that you tell your visions, or compel you to. What you have is rare. It needs to be protected."

"My dad—"

"Someone's keeping an eye on him."

She raised her eyebrows, although he also saw her relax slightly. "Well, if I'm supposedly in danger... what do you suggest?"

"That we do our best to encourage the change Trevor told me about." Starting with sex. Ned had no idea if that was a part of what he was supposed to do, but his blood was boiling with the need of it. She was a virgin, a human, and he would be careful...

"What about at night?" Her slender fingers walked up his shirt to his collar, and then she glanced up into his eyes. "When I'm asleep, defenseless..."

He swallowed, watching her peer at him from beneath dark lashes. "Defenseless," he repeated skeptically. "Says the girl who asked me to help her get kidnapped, and then invited me out to coffee after."

"Which we've never had." She followed him to his room, their hands joined. "Do you have to sleep during the day?"

Ned laughed. "It's easier for me to stay awake at night," he admitted. "But sunlight doesn't set me on fire."

"That's good." Then he was closing the door of his hotel room and they were alone together, her gorgeous blue eyes alight as she considered...

He pinned her against the door, his hand stealing up to cup her cheek as he leaned down. Their lips had barely brushed when he murmured, "One thing first..."

"Oh!" She fumbled in her purse, and he heard a quiet _click_ before she tossed the small bag onto the table near the door. "Let's try this again."

He kissed her deeply, and when he slipped his tongue into her mouth, she stroked her own tongue against it. The feel of her warm and breathing against him inflamed him all over again, and he fought to keep himself calm. He wanted to toss her onto his bed, strip her dress off, and soothe his roaring need for her.

_Future husband._

For the rest of their lives. She looked at him like the sun rose and set on him, like he was all she ever wanted, and it felt too intoxicating to be real. To belong to someone, to have someone who wanted him in return...

She moaned his name when he broke the kiss and pressed his lips against her neck, and at the feel of her vein pulsing just beneath the skin, he felt even more aroused. He pressed himself against her, one hand finding the hem of her dress and slipping beneath, the other resting against the small of her back. She was panting and so warm under the thin fabric of her dress, and he kissed her just behind her earlobe, sighing when she shivered.

Human. Human.

She was so fragile. He was going to have to be so gentle, he kept reminding himself. So many years of pent-up tension, but he had used that time to hone his self-control. He could do this.

He picked her up and she immediately wrapped her arms around him, gasping when she felt him through his pants, the arousal he couldn't have disguised even if he'd wanted to. Thin panties and damp heat, and he needed more. He needed her naked.

Ned carried her over to the bed and slowly lowered her to it, sliding his knee between her thighs. She was blushing again, though she kept an arm wrapped around him. He licked her neck and his hips pressed tight between her parted legs.

She whined softly. "Do you need to bite me?" she gasped.

He was going to. Just the memory of the taste of her blood made him ache. "Need to?" he murmured.

"I mean... I'm just..." She arched, releasing a low needy sound as he cupped one of her breasts and brushed his thumb over her tight nipple.

He chuckled when she moved her hand down over his shoulder to unbutton his shirt all over again, and he had no intention of putting it back on, not until morning, and maybe not even then. She kept making soft whimpering noises, squirming to encourage more stroking if he slowed down, and soon she was pushing his shirt down his shoulders. He pushed up on his knees to yank his shirt off, then reached for his fly. She took the opportunity to slide her dress off again, and she was so gorgeous in her delicate underwear. His erection was straining against his own underwear, especially at the sight of her, sprawled and waiting for him. He decided to leave them on for now. Once he was naked, it would only be a matter of time.

_You're so beautiful._

_So are you_ , she told him, gazing up at him with those beautiful blue eyes.

He smiled. Smooth flawless skin, gentle curves, a sweet smile. He didn't care if the hotel caught fire. By the time the sun came up again, he would know.

He leaned down and felt her arch and sigh, and he was nuzzling against her neck as his hand stole back up to her breast. She had unfastened her bra again, and when his fingertips stroked against the bare skin beneath the loose garment, encountering her pebbled nipple, she moaned. His lips found hers and he drew the straps down her arms, moving on top of her, and her warm firm breasts and hard nipples pressed against his bare chest.

He had undressed her the night before, but it hadn't been a sensual act, not like this. He had been afraid she would die, that she was slipping away, and he had needed to warm her up. Now, she was flushed and reaching for him. She wanted him. _Dieu_ , she wanted him. Her desire burned through them both.

"Are you sure about this?" he murmured, searching her eyes.

She nodded. Her eyes were so bright.

_I've never been with a human before. I need to know—I'll be so gentle..._

She reached up and cupped his cheek as he kneeled over her. "I've never been with _anyone_ before," she said, her lips turned up. "But I know I'll enjoy this, if that helps. I don't know what will happen, but being with you... it makes me happy."

Ned made a soft sound, closing his eyes. He had buried his need for this so deeply that the sweetness of it ached, that it had to be a dream. "Don't wake me," he whispered. "Just don't wake me, _ma chérie._ "

She curled her fingers around the nape of his neck. "I'm yours," she whispered, and he groaned softly. "I want you too. Please..."

When he opened his eyes, he felt the tremor that passed over her skin as she saw his fangs.

\--

Nancy knew how big Ned was. He was a head taller than she was, broad-shouldered, incredibly muscular. All that, she had known for years, thanks to her visions. But for all those years, he had been a dream, barely more than a figment of her imagination. The way her head fit perfectly in the hollow of his shoulder, the texture and warmth of his skin under her fingertips...

Then his knee was between her thighs and she couldn't seem to draw a full breath.

He was going to bite her, and the thought of it, impossibly, was arousing. Last time it had hurt, but what he had done before it, nuzzling and kissing her, that had been good. The longer she spent around Ned, the more seemed familiar about him, as though some mostly-forgotten visions were lingering in her mind somewhere. His biting her... she was pretty sure that was going to happen a lot.

" _Mon ange,_ " she whispered, the words she had heard herself whisper to him in another vision, and the slow, sweet smile he had given her in response had taken her breath away. Now, though, his breath was warm against her neck, and she closed her eyes as he used his knees to gently push her legs apart. Her heart was beating so, so fast, so hard, and she was terrified, but at the heart of it she felt calm. He would never hurt her, but his bite would hurt. What he was about to do, all he was about to do, might hurt the first time.

Then he began to stroke and fondle her breasts again, his thumbs rubbing back and forth over her hard nipples, and her hips rocked a few times in anticipation. He asked silently, wordlessly, if it felt good, and the wordless happiness she directed at him made him chuckle softly.

She could get used to this, being able to reach out to him like this, to be so deeply connected to him. And doing this was just a natural extension of it.

He nuzzled against her neck and she gasped, tipping her head to the side, offering herself to him. Instead of biting her and drinking her blood, he began to trail kisses over her, her breastbone, her—

She cried out, her palm against his shoulder blades, drawing a knee up. She still wore her panties, but that was all, and that flimsy barrier was enough to make her just a little reckless. And his tongue against her nipple sent a bolt of desperate need down her spine, to center between her thighs. A few times, after she had dreamed about Ned, she had felt this arousal, this need. She had just never let herself give in to it. Now she had no choice.

His fang gently scraped against her nipple and she sucked in a sharp breath, her spine arching, her fingers buried in his hair. She answered his wordless question with silent reassurance, and she shuddered when he finished suckling against her breast and moved to the other, fondling the first with his finger and thumb.

He was in her mind.

She relaxed and allowed it, allowed him to entwine with her, let him feel what his touch did to her. A wave of heat, an answering chill, and then—

She moaned, her fingers in his hair. Every brush of his fangs, his teeth, made her clench and then soften in need. She brought her knee up as he kissed the flesh between her breasts, then trailed kisses down, over her belly. Achingly slowly, he reached for her panties and began to slide them down her thighs.

Before Frank had called, Ned's fingers had been under her panties, and she began to tremble a little when he moved over her again. His underwear was still on, but she felt so vulnerable, especially when he began to stroke her parted inner thighs. His fingertips strayed closer, and she stared up at him, panting between parted lips. She was so warm, her skin damp.

This was the first night, and once they had done this, that was it. He had told her that he could take it back, that he would if she wanted, but she no longer believed that was an option. Not from what her heart told her, from what she could remember—or, she supposed, whatever the reverse of remembering was. What she fore-knew.

She pushed herself up and began to stroke her fingertips and palms over his muscular chest, and he settled back, watching her. He made a soft noise, almost in warning, when she touched the band of his underwear, but he let her begin to push them down. Then he stood, and she flushed more deeply when she saw him naked for the first time. It felt both familiar and strangely alien.

_You're beautiful._

He smiled. _You're so much more beautiful than I am._ Ma mie.

They moved under the covers together, and he draped his arm over her, facing her, his warmth radiating against her skin. His lips touched hers, and after a long, deep kiss that left her head spinning, he kissed her neck again. The way he nuzzled there, the slow deliberate swipe of his tongue...

He moved on top of her, one knee snug between her thighs, and she ran her hand through his hair, her lashes drifting down as his lips parted. She whimpered when one of his hands drifted up and began to toy with her breast again, fondling her nipple, as he blew on the taut, damp skin of her neck.

Then she gasped and cried out, arching as his fangs broke her skin. Oh, oh God, it hurt, but Ned made a quiet pleased sound deep in his throat, moving his other knee between her legs to push them wide before lowering his hips to hers.

She was pinned down, completely open and vulnerable to him, his hips gently rocking, and his mouth, oh...

He pulled back and gently licked the tender wounds he had left in her neck, and she shuddered. Somehow it hurt and felt good at the same time. Maybe because she could feel his pleasure at it, the way he savored it. He groaned quietly as he settled against her, pinning her under him. His erection was firm and hot against her belly.

Nancy realized that her fingers had curled and slowly relaxed them, resting her palm against his back. He was clearly still aroused, but he wasn't moving. One of his hands was still cupping her breast.

"Mmm." He pulled back and perched above her, gazing down into her eyes. His own were glowing dark gold, a rich caramel brown, instead of the usual color, so brown they were almost black. He looked sated and pleased.

She smiled at him. "You enjoyed that," she whispered.

He nodded, shifting his weight so he could barely brush his fingertips over her neck. She shivered at the sensation. "I've never tasted anything like you," he murmured. "It's so good."

She stroked his cheek. "Is that all you want?" she whispered.

He gave her a slow, incredibly sexy smile. "No," he murmured. "But I do want to savor this. Take my time and make sure it's good for you. I'm sorry I hurt you."

She shook her head, still stroking his cheek. She didn't mind. The pain had been brief.

He moved down and began to nuzzle and suckle against her breasts again, this time without using his fangs. He fondled her breasts and nipples, stimulating her until she was arched under him, panting. Her knees were up, her inner thighs on either side of his hips, and she found herself writhing a little under him, marveling at the sensation of his skin against her slick, sensitive inner flesh. He was still concentrating on her breasts, but she whimpered when a tender place inside her rubbed against his chest.

And he chuckled, pushing himself up to look down into her face again, still stroking and massaging her breasts. Every brush of his fingertips against her nipples made her gasp in pleasure. "You're greedy," he murmured. "Impatient. _Calmez-vous, ma chérie._ "

She sighed. The French sounded so silky and seductive, rolling off his tongue, so deep it seemed to vibrate down her spine. "I'll calm down when you're inside me," she murmured, and was rewarded by feeling him jerk slightly against her.

He moved up, kissing her again, at first gently and then deeply. She stroked her tongue against his, and when he cupped his hand between her thighs, she moaned with need. Just that gentle pressure made her start to rock her hips.

She had first met him a little more than a day earlier. The time between had felt like an infinity.

He stroked that secret flesh between her legs, where no one else had touched her, his mouth joined to hers, and she flushed, gripping his back. Maybe it had been a lifetime since he'd had sex, but he clearly hadn't forgotten much; he seemed so assured. Every caress made her arch under him, seeking more, seeking something she had never experienced, had never wanted with anyone else.

She moaned his name, and when his lips brushed the other side of her neck, opposite the bite he had given her, she trembled. "Shhh," he whispered. "Slow, my love, so slow."

By the time his fingertip intentionally brushed against the arousal-swelled slick lip of her inner flesh, the anticipation and need were enough to make her cry out. She rocked her hips urgently, panting when he did it again. "Ned," she begged, gripping his shoulder tightly. "Please..."

She felt him smile. "Slow," he whispered.

Then his fingertip grazed that tender place, that small nub at the top of her inner flesh, and she sobbed, arching her spine. She made soft whining sounds, her fingers closing into fists, all of her attention centered on the way he touched her. And oh, he teased and caressed her until a glorious, terrible tension had grown low in her belly, deep inside her. Her nipples, teased to exquisite sensitivity, became points of delicious pleasure when his skin brushed against them. Then his fingertip stroked down from that slick, sensitive nub of flesh, sliding between her folds, and she tipped her head back, keening, desperate.

" _Ma fleur exquise_ ," Ned whispered against her skin. " _Abandon, ma doux_."

"Yes," she sobbed. "Oh, please, _yes._ "

He moved on top of her, still caressing and stroking her. His slicked fingertips swirled over that swelled tender nub and she bucked, crying out, a tear sliding down her cheek. It took incredible effort, but she opened her legs as wide as she could, leaving herself completely exposed to him.

_Please, please_. She had no words, just roaring need. With every stroke and caress, somehow her hunger wasn't sated, just honed and whetted. She heard him hum quietly in pleasure as he heard her beg.

Then he slid his hands between her legs and parted her slick, tender inner lips, and she stilled, choking off a quiet sob, waiting. She gazed up at him, knowing that she would remember this night for the rest of her life, and understanding that the brief abandon of a vision could never have done this justice. She had been too young to comprehend.

" _Abandon_ ," he whispered again.

She blinked slowly, relaxing. She could still feel that coiled need inside her, could feel that small nub of flesh between her thighs pulsing with its own echoed heartbeat, tender and waiting for his touch again. Even the air against her damp nipples aroused her.

The tip of his erection touched her low between her legs, and she groaned softly, reaching up, grasping the pillow when her hand brushed it. Her heart was beating so hard. When he leaned down, she released the pillow and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, letting out a long moan as he slid inside her.

He moved slowly, and she could feel his breath against her skin as he concentrated on what she was feeling, immediately retreating when she felt soreness or a stab of pain, moving smoothly, cautiously, into the slick, tender press of flesh between her legs. He moved until she couldn't breathe, until she couldn't feel anything at all beyond him. His chest brushed hers, and then—

She sucked in a sharp breath, then cried out loudly when he rubbed his thumb against that tender nub. He was so tight inside her, filling her, and she felt her inner muscles pulse against him, her hips bucking slightly with each stroke of his thumb against her.

Then he licked the side of her neck, pressing hard, tracing the tip of his tongue against her skin.

Her nails dug against his back as she sobbed. The sensation of him moving in and out of her, withdrawing until just the tip of his erection was inside her before sliding smoothly back inside, his thumb still dancing and stroking against her—she strained under him, trembling, speechless.

" _Ma belle_ ," he whispered, kissing her cheeks, her lips, her jaw, the soft flesh just behind her earlobe. She drew her knees up and cried out, her eyes rolling back, her hips jerking once.

It hurt, but it didn't. She felt complete when he was inside her. She felt whole in a way she never had before.

" _Mon beau_ ," she murmured, then moaned as he slid back inside her. He gently bit the join of her neck and shoulder, his weight pinning her down, and then he was moving again, so wonderfully hard and warm inside her. She felt the beginning of a question, and then—

He began to thrust in and out of her, faster, his thumb still working against her, and when she moved to meet him, she began to sob again. His chest against her nipples, his thumb, he, oh _God, ohhhh..._

" _Dieu,_ " Ned growled, and Nancy clung to him, her hips jerking. She began to whip her head back and forth, and all of her pulsed, flushed, sensitive and open to the man inside her. It felt so good that she sobbed, begging without knowing why or what she needed. This was everything.

And then it happened. That tension inside her broke, and she screamed, her back arching.

And he didn't stop, didn't slow down. He kept teasing and stimulating her, kept moving in and out of her, and she screamed again, straining against him. He plunged inside her, wetly, and she could hear him growling. Her inner muscles seemed to flutter, to pull hard against him, as though she could somehow draw him deeper inside her.

Then his fangs grazed her neck, breaking the skin, and when he dragged his tongue over the wounds to taste her blood, she felt such incredible pleasure that she came close to blacking out. She sobbed as he drew out of her, moving swiftly inside her again, and she gripped him urgently, her inner flesh clenching against him again. His hips jerked against hers as he cried out, reaching his completion.

The full length of his erection was inside her as he slowly lowered himself to her, relaxing against her body, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she panted in ragged breaths. Her hips were still jerking slightly, especially when his breath touched her skin, and she cried out when he slid his hand from between them.

"Nancy," he whispered.

"Ned," she replied, and she barely had the strength to move her hand so she could comb it through his thick, dark hair. He kissed her jaw and she shuddered.

"Mine," he whispered.

"Mine," she replied immediately.

He nuzzled against her and she trembled again. "You have to drink me," he murmured against her skin.

_I don't—_

_I needed this. I needed to be inside you, needed to taste your blood again. Drink me._

Had he done this before? The thought of him doing this with another woman destroyed her, made her intensely angry.

_No,_ ma belle. _You are the only._ He pulled back slightly, his eyes half-lidded as he looked down at her. Then he extended his fangs again, and she watched him bite his own lower lip. Rich-red blood, so dark it was almost purple, almost black, welled up.

Her wide-eyed gaze went from his bleeding lip to his low-lashed gaze. He gently touched her chin, urging her to open her mouth, and she resisted for a second before she gave in. She closed her eyes, trying to fight her response to the idea.

_Shhhh_.

He used his tongue to trace his blood against her tongue, and she whimpered. Then she swallowed.

She sucked his lower lip into her mouth and he moaned in pleasure, shifting his weight so he could begin to thrust and work his long, thick erection inside her again, fondling her breast and that sensitive button of flesh between her thighs. The stimulation, along with the intoxicating taste of his blood, brought her to a shuddering climax so quickly that she screamed, his blood on her lips.

_Clitoris,_ he told her, stroking the swelled, slick nub, and her eyes rolled back as she thrashed. She had released his lip, but he used a fang to nick her lower lip, then kissed her deeply.

The taste of their mingled blood fizzed pleasantly down her throat, leaving a sweet warmth in the cup of her belly. His fingertip stroked down her slick, tender flesh, the inner lips he had parted to sheathe himself between her thighs. She trembled, moaning, powerless in the grip of her arousal. "Clitoris," he murmured, stroking that slick flesh as he moved in and out of her again, and she cried out, straining under him. "So much sweet, delicious flesh for me to feel, _ma belle_."

He kissed her again and she brought her legs up, wrapping them around his hips.

Deep, deep inside her, beyond the feel of him sheathed in her sex, beyond the effervescent trace of their mingled blood, something elemental fell into place, like a tumbler in a lock. She turned inward as he shifted forward, sliding his full length between her legs, and he was panting, his breath against her cheek. Her legs were still wrapped around him, and somewhere in there, the covers had slid down. He was hot and glowing with exertion and her lips parted, a tear sliding down her cheek.

He was right. _Husband_ wasn't the word for this. They were... she didn't know the word, wasn't sure if a word existed, but the thought of signing a piece of paper, exchanging vows, felt insignificant and insulting in comparison. Words could be hollow. Promises could be meaningless.

When she opened her eyes again and gazed into his own, she could feel it, could see it, that he felt it too. They were together, just as his parents were. He was the man she was meant to be with, and he was finally home. His eyes gleamed faintly, and her heart broke for him. Then he blinked, his lips curving up in a smile meant just for her, and she was so exhilarated that it was almost terrifying. She had no doubt that no other man could ever have made her feel this way, so completely who she was meant to be, so perfectly whole.

He began to move, in slow shallow thrusts that gradually lengthened. The deep ache between her legs, the loss of her virginity, faded until the ache became just her endless need for him, sated and inflamed by every stroke of him inside her. It wouldn't all happen at once; she could feel it, though. The most important piece had fallen into place.

She was becoming more like him. What they had done tonight had caused it.

She came back to herself, languid and still waking, savoring the stroke of him in and out of her, the sure seduction of his fingertips. She tipped her head back, her lips parting, and arched to meet his thrusts, gripping his back. He breathed her name. He kissed her neck and his chest brushed against her nipples and she cried out when his slick fingertip rubbed against that nub again. Clitoris. An answering stab of desire tightened her belly.

She had thought she was exhausted, after that first time. Her third climax of the night left her throat raw from screaming, her skin glowing and slippery from exertion, and she could barely summon the strength to breathe, let alone move. She moaned as her boneless legs fell open, his solid fully-relaxed weight pinning her to the bed.

"Someone... probably heard me," she murmured slowly. "Oh my God..."

Ned chuckled, then kissed her cheek. "Don't worry," he whispered against her skin. "No one's reported us."

"I probably... sounded like... someone was killing me." Then her eyes popped open. "How do you know no one reported us?"

"None of the humans in earshot remembered what they heard," he assured her. "Trust me."

"It's a good thing—"

The words faded, then died on her lips as a vision came to her. Her lashes drifted down, and her heart began beating harder. She could feel Ned murmuring something, but she couldn't understand it.

When the vision passed, Ned had rolled them onto their sides and she was slumped against him, his arm draped over her. He brushed a kiss against her lips, and then he smiled, looking somehow surprised.

"What?" She searched his eyes. The nausea and sensitivity that followed her visions was rising, but it felt weaker than it ever had before. Thanks to him. Thanks to whatever was in his blood. He had given her so much of his own blood to save her from that mysterious injection, and she felt momentarily weak, realizing how close she must have been to death if even that hadn't fully brought her back.

"Your eyes," he murmured. "When you looked at me, just now... it's fading, but there was this golden ring around your pupils."

She smiled. "It's you," she whispered.

"You saw... your father?"

She nodded, shifting her gaze away as she sorted through the flash of impressions. She had been afraid, in the vision. Afraid for her father, and...

Nancy released a soft whimper, burying her face against Ned's chest, and he stroked her back. "What else?" he whispered.

"A man," she whispered. "A man who wanted to hurt Dad. And..." A fresh wave of tears rose in her eyes. "Something about Mom, and what happened when she died."


	4. Chapter 4

She was deeply asleep, completely relaxed and defenseless in his arms.

After a flurry of discussion of her most recent vision and what it might mean, Nancy had begun to slow, completely exhausted. Ned wasn't surprised. She had walked into his hotel room a virgin, and now... three times. After telling himself over and over that he needed to take things slow and gentle with her, too.

He gazed at her face, slack in sleep, but flushed with health and warmth. Her head was pillowed by his arm, and she was facing him. The soft golden light from the bedside lamp caught in her blonde hair, outlining the fine escaped wisps, burnishing the traces of red. Her lashes were brown, not black or a pale translucent blonde. Her brows were silky under the ball of his thumb as he traced one, keeping his touch light so he didn't wake her. But he could feel that she was deeply asleep. She had complete faith that she was safe with him.

Her cheeks were so soft, with soft, invisible blonde down that he could feel beneath his fingertips. Her lips were lush, naturally pink, parted slightly.

She was so perfect. The delicately formed shell of each ear, pierced in the lobe. The soft, yielding curve of her breasts, her nipples soft and relaxed.

And she was his.

Ned's throat grew thick, and his sight blurred. His arm tightened a little around her, and she made a soft noise in her sleep, nestling against him, the leg she had draped over him moving just a little. He knew he was warm when he slept, and she seemed to luxuriate in it.

She was his.

He brushed his lips against her forehead, then rested them there, needing the additional contact with her. All the anger, the frustration, his _need_ for her—oh, it would take time for him to work through it, to let it go. But he had no doubt at all that she was the woman he had been searching for, the person he had needed for so long, the person he had despaired of ever finding.

He was going to take her home.

Ned closed his eyes, his palm gently cupping her jaw, and saw a flash of it. Nancy had been dealing with her visions for a handful of years now, although she had denied them for part of that time. Ned had been bound to other vampires, had been born with abilities Nancy couldn't imagine. With their exchange of blood, with their physical joining to echo the joining of their minds, her ability had started to become his too.

There would be more. He could feel it. But this wasn't so bad for a start.

He saw her at his house, in his bed. He felt her wrapped around him, responding eagerly, her blood warm as it ran down his throat—

He would never feed from anyone else unless he had to, not now. Her blood tasted sweet and rich and intoxicating. Bonding was all mental; what was happening with Nancy was intense, visceral, instinctual. Exchanging blood was a ritual, a symbolic gesture, but with her...

_Awake?_

Ned blinked. Mike was his oldest friend, and they had been bound for a long time. If he was close, he might even be able to see through Ned's eyes; Ned had seen flashes of what Mike had seen, a few times, and he had smilingly withdrawn when Mike had been with Jan at the time. He didn't necessarily want Mike to see Nancy this way, but that was just his own jealous possessiveness. Mike wouldn't desire Nancy. He desired no one other than Jan.

_For now_ , Ned replied.

Mike chuckled.

At the same time, Nancy made a quiet noise, moving against him. Ned brushed his lips against her forehead and quietly suggested that she sink back into deep sleep. He tightened his focus on Mike so she would be less disturbed by their conversation.

_What did you find?_

_What we expected. Did you want to come with?_

_Of course._ Ned smiled. _This isn't your fight._

Mike paused. _She's yours. Isn't she._

_Yes. Completely._ He couldn't help glancing down at her again, his heart aching with love for her.

_I guess you were just waiting for her to be born, all these years._

Ned was surprised that Mike had accepted it so easily—but Mike knew how frustrated and upset Ned had been, even though he had never needed to say it. Maybe it should have been obvious when he hadn't found anyone in his first century that she didn't yet exist, but vampires' mates were other vampires, and it had been both easier and more devastating to believe that she simply didn't exist and never would.

_I guess I was. I wish I'd known._

_Me too. I'm happy for you. She... she'll become like us? You won't lose her?_

The pain of that thought made his muscles involuntarily clench, and Nancy whimpered very quietly in her sleep, responding to his tension. He stroked a hand down her hair and she relaxed again.

_I won't lose her._ He would willingly die before losing her.

_Let me know when you want to head out. We'll be back at the hotel._

What they expected. Ned shifted onto his back, drawing Nancy with him. She resettled, and he felt the warmth of her breath against his chest. His fingertips traced the line of her spine, her warm elastic skin, the shift of her muscles.

She had known Frank for a long time, since they were children, and when Ned gently probed those memories, they seemed to be genuine. Whatever had happened to Frank had been recent. Ned's immediate dislike of him had been based both on what the other man had become, and his possessiveness over Nancy. Ned didn't want any other man touching her, ever.

He wanted to go after Frank's brother now, to get Frank out of their lives, but Mike hadn't felt any specific urgency. Besides, it would be easier in the morning. And Ned wanted to hold Nancy all night.

He had drifted off to sleep when Nancy slowly woke, to find herself draped over Ned, his arm around her. When she shifted she winced; she felt like she had been through an intense workout, and in a way she had. The muscles between her legs were complaining.

She pressed a very soft kiss against Ned's cheek before she gently slid out of his arms and padded, naked, to the bathroom. She hung her head, her lashes drifting down, as she relieved the pressure in her bladder.

She felt different. Not completely, not radically different, but—

But she was with Ned now, and he had become her first lover, her only lover. Of course she would feel different. The rest of her life had begun, a life she had been seeing in her visions for years now.

After she had washed her hands, she was feeling marginally more awake as she swept her hair to the side and inspected her neck. She saw only the faintest discoloration on her neck where Ned had sunk his fangs into her flesh, and she was only able to detect it because she was looking for it. In a few hours, she would be fully healed, and her father would have no idea.

Her father. Her vision about him hadn't been split. She didn't think what she had seen could be avoided, but she hadn't seen enough to help her puzzle through it.

Her blue eyes were gleaming with tears when she met her own gaze again. Her father had been all she had for so long, and it wasn't his fault that he hadn't understood her warning about what would happen to her mother. When the visions had broken through her tissue-thin denial, she had been confronted with her anger and heartbreak all over again. Somehow, she _knew_ , her vision could have saved her mother's life.

She would be damned if anything happened to her father that she could possibly prevent.

It wouldn't be tonight, and Nancy had to consider for a moment before she was sure about what day it was. The past few days had been a complete blur, of anxiety and wonder and danger. But her father's trip wasn't going to last forever.

What would he say, when she told him that she wouldn't be returning to River Heights with him?

After using a warm, wet washcloth to wipe the tacky trace of their joining from her thighs, she thoroughly washed her face. She was still aware of that difference inside her, both tangible and intangible. She hadn't lost anything, but what she knew and understood now... what she had seen in herself in her visions made more sense now.

She went back to bed still naked, and turned off the bedside lamp before rejoining Ned beneath the covers. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the low light, and she was careful as she nestled against him again. She didn't want to wake him.

_My Ned._

She listened to him breathe, felt it against her as his chest expanded and deflated. She felt his heart beating under his warm flesh. He looked like a man, but he definitely didn't look ordinary. He looked perfect. When his dark eyes met hers, hooded with desire, sweetly anxious, burning at some perceived threat, she felt it as surely as a punch to her stomach. The lines of his face were so familiar, but to be able to touch him and kiss him...

She moved over him, gazing at his closed eyes for a moment, the impossibly dark long lashes resting just over his perfect cheekbones. She had missed him for years; he had missed her for centuries, and as delighted as she was to be with him, she knew that what he was feeling was far more complex.

Nancy moved slowly, tentatively, tracing the ball of her thumb over his brow, watching his lashes to see if they fluttered. When they didn't, she followed with her lips, brushing soft kisses over his temples, his nose, his cheekbones, his jaw. She couldn't help smiling as she kissed the corner of his mouth, his full lips. Her breasts glanced against his chest a few times, and the feel of his skin against her nipples made her flinch at how intense it was. She traced her thumb along the curve of each ear, feeling the softness of each lobe, the faintest line of stubble against the heel of her hand as it glanced over his jaw.

She realized that his heartbeat had sped up just before he released a soft groan. "Come here," he murmured, drawing her back into the circle of his arms. She giggled quietly as she nestled against him again.

"You sound happy," he whispered.

"I am," she whispered, and rubbed her palm up and down his chest. "I'm so happy to be with you. I didn't mean to wake you."

"I can't believe I slept." He caressed her back, tracing her shoulder blades, his touch ticklish-light against the nape of her neck. "I never want to stop touching you. But I shouldn't have—I wanted to be gentle with you..."

"You were. You are." She pressed soft lingering kisses against his chest, broad and muscular, so warm. This was so much more than wanting, anticipating, and then having. Every morning she woke in his arms, every day she shared with him, would be another gift. "I love you," she whispered against his chest.

His arms tightened around her. She felt a shivering inside him, and her lashes drifted down as she nuzzled against him, trying to silently reassure him. The depth of his need for her was staggering, even for him. She had known for years that this day would come; he had had no warning.

"Come home with me," he murmured, his fingertips drifting over the silk of her hair, gently tangling there. _Stay with me._

She moved back to look into his eyes. What she felt for him wasn't so simple or abstract as pity. She just wished that she could have taken away all of his uncertainty and despair. Her calm in the face of his turmoil seemed almost mocking, but this was what she had known for so long. Then she smiled at him. "My home is with you," she whispered.

He rolled over, on top of her, caging her under him. She reached up and caressed his face, feeling the warmth and coiled tension in him. _I love you, I've always loved you, it's all right... this is forever. I love you._

He searched her face, and she saw only the barest flicker of emotion in his otherwise impassive face. He was still afraid, on some level, that this was all a dream.

She took a deep breath and wrapped herself around him, drawing him to her, holding him tight. "My love," she whispered into his ear. "My only love."

\--

Ned supposed it was only natural. He had a _lot_ of frustration to make up for.

It was incredibly difficult to leave the bed without drawing her into another embrace that would mean another hour. He shaved while she was in the shower, and when she dried off, she put on fresh underwear, but she had nothing to wear over it other than her dress from the night before. Ned wanted her in one of his shirts and nothing else, but then they _definitely_ wouldn't leave the room before noon.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, sitting at the foot of their unmade bed, her damp hair drying into loose waves. Her gaze on him was steady.

She was so strong. How had he believed for so long that humans were weak? Of course her strength and speed were negligible compared to his, but her courage was fully equal to anyone he could name.

Ned shrugged. "If we find the demon who infected your friend, we can kill him," he replied. "Or her. Most demons are male, though. That would end the influence."

Nancy released a quiet, incredulous laugh and rubbed her palms over her bare arms. "Do you realize how surreal this all is?"

Ned paused for a second, then smiled. "For you, yeah, it would be. But humans have convinced themselves for the past few generations that vampires are titillating fiction. You've known about demons for thousands of years, and decided they're just metaphors."

Nancy laughed again, rising to cross the room and wrap her arms around him. Her breasts pressed against his back, and Ned swallowed. Their being on the same planet together was already enough temptation. "So what you're saying is that humans as a massive group have no real imagination. We just steal ideas and then pretend they were entirely ours."

"Eh. I think zombies really are an entirely human creation. Your friend, for example, is under thrall, and that's different."

"Oh?"

Ned turned, pointedly keeping his gaze on her face instead of letting it linger on her beautiful blue dress, the fabric draped about her sweet curves. "It's why I didn't really understand your affection for him," Ned admitted grudgingly. "What I sense in him... thrall will leave him separated from his own sense of morality, right and wrong. Although he has to be strong-willed, if someone took the additional precaution of kidnapping his brother to ensure his cooperation. He clearly still recognizes and knows you. He's clearly trying to fight it."

Nancy studied Ned's face. His brow furrowed when a slow smile turned her lips up, and she reached up to smooth the furrow away. "You're the only guy for me," she told him, her eyes wide and sincere. "Yeah, he's an old friend. But you don't need to worry about it."

He leaned down and brushed a kiss against her lips before moving down to nuzzle against her neck. The thought of tasting her blood made him immediately aroused, in a way he didn't feel with anyone else. Taking blood served to heal and revive him, to connect him to the person whose blood he had tasted, but he hadn't taken blood for sheer pleasure in decades.

Nancy whimpered quietly, then reached up to sweep her hair away, tilting her head to the side to offer her neck. Ned inhaled deeply, then traced his tongue along her vein. The small twin punctures from the night before had entirely healed, but he could still sense them. "We need to exchange blood," he murmured, and she shivered. "As a precaution."

She reached up to grip his upper arm. "Why do I have a feeling this is going to involve my panties coming off," she breathed.

Ned chuckled, although he immediately responded to her breathlessness, her closeness. "It can," he told her. Then he kissed her one more time before sinking his fangs into her neck.

Nancy shuddered, her knees almost buckling as she cling to him. She released a soft wounded whimper.

He pulled back as soon as he had enough, then licked the wounds closed. Nancy's lashes were still low, and she looked almost turned inward, when he looked into her face again.

"Okay?"

She blinked, then looked up at him. "It feels weird, when your life... starts," she murmured, then smiled at him. "But I guess you know that too."

"Yeah." He smiled too, before sinking his fangs into his lower lip.

She was both fascinated and frightened by the blood that welled up, gone so very still as he leaned down. "It's all right," he whispered, before he kissed her, slipping his tongue between her lips to part them, tracing the taste of his own blood there.

She shuddered again, then reached up and wrapped her arms tight around him, sucking his lower lip into her mouth. He shivered as he picked her up, until he heard her sandals smack against the floor as they dropped from her feet, her heart racing, her chest pressing against his with her every inhale.

He finally broke the kiss once she had stopped sucking so insistently against his lip, when the flow of blood had stopped. She licked her lips when he looked into her face.

_Good?_

He grinned. "Very much so."

"I can't believe you want me to go stay with Dad while you're doing something so exciting."

Ned sobered. "They could kill you," he told her. "And that's just for a start. What's between us is too new to have much strength... and I think a lot of it was spent on just keeping you alive."

She gave him a little pout. "Just know that I wish I could be there with you," she said, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair before he lowered her to her feet again.

He shrugged once. "You can be, in a way," he told her. "Maybe not yet, but once we've been bound for a while, we'll be able to see through each other's eyes."

Nancy brightened immediately. "That would be so useful!" she said, reaching for her purse as he nodded toward the door. "I really could have used that a few times..."

Ned chuckled, shaking his head. "There will never be a dull moment with you, will there."

She turned a sunny smile on him. "Not if I can help it."

Once Nancy was back with her father, temporarily at least, Ned, Mike, and Howie headed to the warehouse where the hostage was being held. Mike was eager to get back to Jan, and Ned's parents had already asked when he would be back at the estate. Unattached as he was, Ned had been able to do largely what he wanted, returning for family obligations when needed. Now...

His mother especially would be delighted to meet Nancy. Ned was her only child, and she had long wanted to have another baby, but short adoption, there had been no way. Most vampire couples had two children, but the difference in their ages could be decades or centuries, and Ned was part of a large family. Six generations were living on the estate, including Ned's.

Ned smiled as he thought back to his recent conversation with Nancy. It was almost impressive, how tangled and ridiculous their cultural myths had become. Demons were nocturnal, while vampires generally obeyed personal preferences. Ned preferred to sleep late and do most of his work at night.

"Guards?"

"Humans," Howie replied, which they both knew was laughable, but using anything stronger would have attracted attention. "Looks like ten cells inside."

Ned raised his eyebrows. "Are the other nine occupied too?"

"Six are," Mike said. "We were just after the brother."

"Are they all human?"

Mike shrugged. "Not sure."

The humans were the first line of defense, meant to help disguise the warehouse as nothing particularly unusual. They were large men, muscular and well-trained, but they were susceptible to mental influence. Mike, Howie, and Ned could all persuade humans to look beyond them, in most cases. Nancy was the only human Ned had met who had been able to resist it, but that was because she herself was different.

Everything beyond the guards was, as Ned knew it would be, a lot more difficult. Certain defensive measures were uniformly deadly, regardless of who ran into them. Mike found a control box and called their friend Maury, who talked him through how to disable the protective grid wiring all entrances to kill intruders. Howie was particularly sensitive to fey-influenced traps, and as he disabled that one, Ned considered. All this security would both keep possible rescuers out, and the prisoners either trapped or dead. He doubted they were ever given free rein of the facility. They were fed somehow, possibly sedated.

Mike ran into an unexpected trap and hissed, jerking back, before they could make their way through the narrow entrance he had prematurely cleared. "Just a minute..."

The warehouse was dim and dusty, the windows blacked out. The cells were grouped at the center, with a guard station positioned above, two others in corners. Howie mapped out a mostly obscured path, as Mike described the correct cell. Ned took his time inspecting the other cells. The hair on the back of his neck was prickling.

_What's happening?_

Ned was concentrating so hard that Nancy's voice in his head was faint. He reached out to her. _We're working on it. I'll let you know when we're out. Are you okay?_

_Yes. Dad and I are having lunch soon. I... I'll talk to you about it later._

Ned caught the flash of it, an impression from her own mind: a vision she had seen of the two of them together, at what he knew was the estate. He smiled. _Yes,_ he promised.

Ned and his friends worked hard at what they did. Their senses had been honed, their reflexes super-fast even from birth, but practice and exercise had left them almost imperceptible to anyone when they wanted to be. It was thrilling to put it to work, and after their synchronized attack had disabled all the non-human guards inside, Mike went to the cell holding Hardy, while Ned very quickly glanced into the other cells. He saw no identifying information nearby, no folder or name card, just a single number stenciled above each door. A plastic viewing window let him gaze into each.

The second one he reached, Ned's eyes widened. He couldn't explain it, but something about the woman was familiar. She was pacing, dressed in a loose hospital gown that was cinched as tight as it could be and still drowned her. Her feet were bare. Her dark arms were crossed just under her breasts, and she glanced up at Ned, defeat and despair clear in the lines of her face.

_Howie?_ Ned could eventually open the door, but Howie was faster.

A minute later, Ned was opening the door. The woman had just reached her bunk and was sitting down on it, her expression wary.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

She studied Ned's face for a few seconds. "In exchange for what?"

"Telling me what happened before they brought you here."

She tilted her head. "Deal."

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally published elsewhere. If you enjoyed it or are impatient for more, please consider leaving feedback! :)


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